IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


^    . 


/!> 


■^    ,>C^ 


.<? 


% 


4:<  WM 


1.0 


I.I 


1.25 


«l£  ^ 

i"  IIIIIM 


)2J 


116 


M 

Z2 

1-4    IIIIII.6 


Photographic 

Sciences 
Corporation 


33  WeST  MAIN  STRUT 

WEBSTRR,N.Y.  14SB0 

(716)  872-4503 


L 


. f' -7;u-  '""Hi'.i.H'.f.^  ,>'r~^ 


Ltf 


m>i 


"W 


CrHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHIVI/ICIVIH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microreproductions  /  Institut  Canadian  de  microreproductions  historiques 


!■ 


6^ 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notes/Notes  techniques  et  bibliographiques 


The  Institute  has  attempted  to  obtain  the  best 
original  copy  available  for  filming.  Features  of  this 
copy  which  may  be  bibliographicahy  unique, 
which  may  alter  any  of  the  images  in  the 
reproduction,  or  which  may  significantly  change 
the  usual  method  of  filming,  are  checked  below. 


D 
D 
D 
D 
D 
D 

n 


D 


Coloured  covers/ 
Couverture  de  couleur 


^ 


I      I    Covers  damaged/ 


D 


Couverture  endommagde 

Covers  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Couverture  restaurde  et/ou  pelliculde 

Cover  title  missing/ 

Le  titre  de  couverture  manque 

Coloured  maps/ 

Cartes  gdographiques  en  couleur 

Coloured  ink  (i.e.  other  than  blue  or  black)/ 
Encre  de  couleur  (i.e.  autre  que  bleue  ou  noire) 

Coloured  plates  and/or  illustrations/ 
Planches  et/ou  illustrations  en  couleur 

Bound  with  other  material/ 
Reli6  avec  d'autres  documents 

Tight  binding  may  cause  shadows  or  distortion 
along  interior  margin/ 

La  raliure  serr^e  peut  causer  de  I'ombre  ou  de  la 
distortion  le  long  de  la  marge  int^rieure 

Blank  leaves  added  during  restoration  may 
appear  within  the  text.  Whenever  possible,  these 
have  been  omitted  from  filming/ 
II  se  peut  que  certaines  pages  blanches  ajoutdes 
lors  d'une  restauration  apparaissent  dans  le  texte, 
mais,  lorsque  cela  dtait  possible,  ess  pages  n'ont 
pas  6t6  film^es. 

Additional  comments:/ 
Commentaires  suppldmentaires. 


L'Institut  a  microfilm^  le  meilleur  exemplaire 
qu'il  lui  a  6X6  possible  de  se  procurer.  Les  details 
de  cet  exemplaire  qui  sont  peut-dtre  uniques  du 
point  de  vue  bibliographique,  qui  peuvent  modifier 
une  image  reproduite,  ou  qui  peuvent  exiger  une 
modification  dans  la  mdthode  normale  de  filmage 
sont  indiqu6s  ci-dessous. 


I      I    Coloured  pages/ 


D 


Pages  de  couleur 

Pages  damaged/ 
Pages  endommag^es 

Pages  restored  and/oi 

Pages  restaurdes  et/ou  pellicul6es 

Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxe( 
Pages  ddcolordes,  tachet^es  ou  piqu^es 

Pages  detached/ 
Pages  ddtachdes 

Showthrough/ 
Transparence 

Quality  of  prir 

Quality  in6gale  de  I'impression 

Includes  supplementary  materit 
Comprend  du  materiel  supplementaire 


I  I  Pages  damaged/ 

I  I  Pages  restored  and/or  laminated/ 

I  I  Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxed/ 

I  I  Pages  detached/ 

I  I  Showthrough/ 

I  I  Quality  of  print  varies/ 

I  I  Includes  supplementary  material/ 


Only  edition  available/ 
Seule  Edition  disponible 

Pages  wholly  or  partially  obscured  by  errata 
slips,  tissues,  etc.,  have  been  refilmed  to 
ensure  the  best  possible  image/ 
Les  pages  totalement  ou  partiellement 
obscurcies  par  un  feuillet  d'errata,  une  pelure, 
etc.,  ont  6t6  film^es  6  nouveau  de  fagon  6 
obtenir  la  meilleuro  image  possible. 


This  item  is  filmed  at  the  redi<ction  ratio  checked  below/ 

Ce  document  est  i\\m6  au  taux  de  reduction  indiqud  ci-dessous. 

18X  22X 


10X 


14X 


26X 


30X 


^ 


□ 


12X 


16X 


20X 


24X 


28X 


32X 


e 

§tails 
s  du 
lodifier 
r  une 
Image 


9S 


The  copy  filmed  here  has  been  reproduced  thanks 
to  the  genarosity  of: 

Library  of  Congress 
Photoduplication  Service 

The  im.^g^cs  appearing  here  are  the  best  quality 
possible  consiiering  the  condition  and  legibility 
of  the  original  copy  and  in  keeping  with  the 
filming  contract  specifications. 


Original  copies  in  printed  paper  covers  are  filmed 
beginning  with  the  front  cover  and  ending  on 
the  last  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, or  the  back  cover  when  appropriate.  All 
other  original  copies  are  filmed  beginning  on  the 
first  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, and  ending  on  the  last  page  with  a  printed 
or  illustrated  impression. 


The  last  recorded  frame  on  each  microfiche 
shall  contain  the  symbol  — »>  (meaning  "CON- 
TINUED"), or  the  symbol  V  (meaning  "END"), 
whichever  applies. 

Maps,  plates,  charts,  etc.,  may  be  filmed  at 
different  reduction  ratios.  Those  too  large  to  be 
entirely  included  in  one  exposure  are  filmed 
beginning  in  the  upper  left  hand  corner,  'eft  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  as  many  frames  as 
required.  The  following  diagrams  illustrate  the 
method: 


L'exemplaire  film6  fut  reproduit  grAce  d  la 
g6n6rosit6  de: 

Library  of  Congress 
Photoduplication  Service 

Les  images  suivantes  ont  6t6  reproduites  avec  le 
plus  grand  soin,  compte  tenu  de  la  condition  et 
de  la  nettet6  de  l'exemplaire  filmd.  et  en 
conformity  avec  les  conditions  du  contrat  de 
filmage. 

Les  exemplaires  originaux  dont  la  couverture  en 
papier  est  imprimis  sont  film6s  en  commenpant 
par  le  premier  plat  et  en  terminant  soit  par  la 
dernidre  page    ui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration,  soit  par  le  second 
plat,  selon  le  cas.  Tous  les  autres  exemplaires 
originaux  sont  film6s  en  comm  )n9ant  par  la 
premiere  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration  et  en  terminant  par 
la  dernidre  page  qui  comporte  une  telle 
empreinte. 

Un  des  symboles  suivants  apparaitra  sur  la 
dernidre  image  de  cheque  microfiche,  selon  le 
cas:  le  symbole  — »►  signifie  "A  SUIVRE  ",  le 
Gymboie  V  signifie  "FIN". 

Las  cartds,  planches,  tableaux,  etc..  peuvent  dtre 
film6s  i  des  taux  de  reduction  diff6rents. 
Lorsque  le  document  est  trop  grand  pour  dtre 
reproduit  en  un  seui  cliche,  il  est  filmd  A  partir 
de  i'angle  sup6rieur  gauche,  de  gauche  d  droite. 
et  de  haut  en  bac.  en  prenant  le  nombre 
d'images  ndcessalre.  Les  diagrammes  suivants 
illustrent  la  mdthode. 


errata 

I  to 

t 

i  pelure, 

on  d 


n 


32X 


I 


1 

1 

2 

3 

1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

^I«HI1!»"»*W»WB 


»"?■"!■  ajg^igiwpw***'^ 


f... 


i^ 


I- 


PADDT'8  OPINION  OF  HIS   MISTRESS.        p.    16. 


\i!k..' 


r^. 


m^  OF  TEE  EO(J; 


A  TAJ  E  OF  'tk^  imsri^^ASAKTltY. 


"»>. 


SIBS.    J.1NK   D.>  CJ1.LPLIN. 


vm^ 


'^> 


L\. 


sllSiC".-- 


9S.      p.  lA 


PUBLlXSHRn    BV   THE 

XMEUirvN    tRACT    SOCIETY, 
IM  TUEMyAT  bmvxT,  nosxoN. 


^ 


GEMS  OP  THE  BOG; 


A  TALE  OF  THE  IRISH  PEASANTRY. 


MRS.    JANE    D.    CHAPLIN. 


!■ 


L 


?l3 

.C37 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congross,  in  the  year  1869,  by 
JANE    DUNBAU   ClIAl'LIN. 
In  the  Clerk's  Offlco  of  t!.e  District  Court  of  tho  District  of 
AlasHackusetts. 


The  principal  characters  and  Bcenes  in  the  foUowing 
pages  ore  dniwn,  very  nearly,  from  real  life.  The  Btory 
was  first    published    as    a  serial    in    the    "Watchman  and 

Beflector." 

J.  D.  C. 


^ 


^. 


year  1869,  by 

N. 

the  District  of 


the  following 
life.  The  story 
Watchman  and 


4  coyTEyrn. 

XXV.    A  CoxflBf RATED  Live 

XXVI.    Visit  from  Friesd  am)  Foe 

S13 
XXVII.    Goiso  TO  Ameuica, 

223 

XWIII.      A   l-AlSKfl.   I'AUTISO 

.        .    329 
XXIX.     Stoles  nv  the  Foe 

339 

XXX.     I'ATIEST  IX  TBIBULATIOX, 

XXXI.    New  IIcmeb  is  tue  New  World,    .        .       •        •    3»3 

8G3 
XXXII.    Padpy'8  Wisdom 

XXXIII.  A  Joyful  Meetiso, 

381 

XXXIV.  The  Old  Fob  aqain, 

888 

XXXV.     rBOMOTlOIC  AMD  BEWABD, 


••"  iili^i^rfarMi^MtfMift^'MiwMiwhii 


GEMS  OF  THE  BOG. 


CHAPTER    I. 


THE  PIBST  FAMILIES  OP  KILLYROOKE. 

THE  picturesque  little  liamlet  of  Killyrooko 
consisted  of  one  long  row  of  straw-thatched 
cottages,  each  having  its  garden  patch  stocked 
with  potatoes  and  cabbages,  and  graced  by  a 
pig-pen.  In  most  of  the  dwellings  a  hole  in 
the  wall  sufficed  for  a  window,  while  the  floor 
was  only  the  hard-beaten  earth.  Art  had 
never  entered  Killyrooko ;  but  nature,  so 
lavish  of  her  bounties  to  all  beautiful  Ireland, 
had  not  forgotten  this  remote  and  quiet  nook. 
The  green  lawns,  the  fields  of  flax  and  barley, 
the  high  old  hedges,  the  bluest  r  id  brightest 
of  waters,  (he  blackest  and  richest  of  bogs  had 


■HP 


e  0^3/5  OF  THE  BOO. 

charms  unutterable  for  the  hearts  of  hor  simple 
children.  A.s  the  Switzer  inoiuna  for  his 
mountains,  and  the  Icelander  for  his  snows, 
60  they,  when  exiled,  mourn  for  their  native 

bogs. 

Tlic  society  of  Killyrooko,  huml)lo  as  it  was, 
boasted  of  its  distinctions  as  much  as  did  that 
of  neighboring  towns.     The  fanner  — so  called 
—  sat  upon  the  pinnacle  of  the  little   social 
fabric.     Ho  leased  a  bit  of  land,  and  owned  a 
donkey,  two   or  three  cows,  and  pigs   whoso 
name  was  legion.     The  next  grade  wore  the 
laborers,  many  of  them   meriting   that   name 
only  in  harvest,  lining  as  they  did  in  idleness 
and  want  most  of  the  year  ;  while  the  lowliest 
of  all  were  the  professional  beggars,  who  lived 
on  Uio  bounty  of  the  gentry  and  larger  farmers 
in  the  surrounding  region,  and  who  made  their 
lieadquarters  in  Killyrooke,  finding  shelter  in 

dilapidated  huts  and  cow-houses,  or  with  the 

tender-hearted  peasants. 

At  one  end  of  tho  long  street  lay  in  quiet 

beauty  tho  little  "  Lough,"  a  heritage  of  mercy 

to  tho   people.    Beside  its  bright*  waters  tho 


JUtJtm, 


♦  ■- 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES  OF  KILLYROOKE.       7 


her  simple 
IS  for  Ilia 
his  snows, 
leir  native 

as  it  was, 
as  did  tliat 
—  so  called 
ittle   social 
d  owned  a 
pigs   whoso 
ifc  were  the 
that   name 
in  idleness 
the  lowliest 
i,  who  lived 
sier  farmers 

made  their 
;  shelter  in 
or  with  the 

lay  in  quiet 
ige  of  mercy 
b»  waters  the 


ruddy  daughters  of  the  hamlet   met  once  a 
week  to  wash   their   garments   and  to  gossip 
over  alfaii-s  of  common  interest.     All  day  these 
nymplis  stood  knee  deep  in  the  water,  splashing 
it  about,  eitlicr  in  work  or  play,  while   their 
plaintive  Irisli  airs,  chanted  in  time  with  their 
riibbiiig,  and  their  merry  wild  laughter,  woke 
the  echoes  from  the   neighboring  hills.    The 
washing  done,  they  spread  their  clothes  on  the 
briglit  turf  around  the  "  Lougl<,"  and  then  sat 
down  to  wait  for  sunset,  which  always  brought 
brothers,   friends   and   lovers,  as  well   as  the 
older  people,  who  came  from  curiosity  to  see 
and  hear  all  that  interested  the  girls  and  boys.  - 
What  "  Change  "  is  to  the  city  merchant,  what 
the  tavern  and   the  store  are  to   the   remote 
villager,    what    the    "  sewing-society  "    is    to 
ladies    among    us,  the    Lough    was,  at   the 
time  of  which  we  write,  to  the  dwellers  iu 
Killyrooke.    Hero  the  old  men  bargained  for 
lonkeys  and   discussed  the  probable  price,  of 
potatoes;    here  the    young    "boys"   planned 
long  tramps  to  fairs  and  horse-races,  and  ex- 


•  QEMS  OF  THE  BOO.       -      !' 

changed  soft  words  with  the  ruddj-cheekod 
girls  resting  on  the  green  banks.  And  in 
the  background  the  mothers  whispered  their 
secrets  of  juy  or  woe  in  each  other's  ears,  and 
the  grandmothers  —  always  the  nursery-maids 
amoi/g  the  the  lowly  Irish  —  swung  themselves 
to  and  fro,  wailing  the  babies  to  slumber,  and 
varying  their  motion  and  their  music  )jy  an 
occasional  blow  or  epithet  aimed  at  the  older 
urchins,  who  thwarted  their  efforts  by  tickling 
the  toes  of  tlie  drowsy  infants. 

We  have  said  there  was  an  aristocracy  in 
this  humble  Killyrooke.  It  comprised  the 
rival  houses  of  Shcehra  and  O'Gorman,  and 
arose  mainly  from  tlie  iact  tliat  their  ancestors 
had  more  land  and  better  cottages  tlian  their 
neighbors,  and  tliat  their  dwellings  alone  had 
each  a  glass  window  to  admit  the  light  and  to 
exclude  the  rain.  But  alas  for  human  great- 
ness !  There  must  bo  always  some  drawback 
to  its  perfect  enjoyment.  Tliese  families  had 
for  generations  been  bitter  rivals  as  well  as 
equals,  and   the   distii\ction   enjoyed   by   both 


wMi\tm)ta^m 


f-- 


mm 


Jj-clicekod 
.  And  in 
)erod  their 
s  ears,  and 
rsei-y-maids 
tliomsclvcs 
uinbei,  and 
usic  by  an 
;  the  older 
by  tickling 

stocraoy  in 
prised  the 
rman,  and 
•  ancestors 
tlian  their 
alone  had 
;ht  and  to 
nan  groat- 
drawback 
milies  had 
as  well  as 
i   by   both 


THE  FinST  FAMILIES  OF  KILLYROOKE.       » 

cbove  tlioir  neighbors  could  not  atone  for  the 
heart-burnings  and  envy  on  the  one  hand,  and 
the  wounded  feelings  on  tlic  other. 

But  at  the  time  when  our  story  begins,  the 
equality  was  broken,  and  the  rivalry  was 
waning.  Slotli  had  taken  captive  the  represen- 
tative of  tho  O'Gornians ;  while  that  "  whicli 
biteth  like  a  serpent  and  stingeth  like  an 
adder  "  had  bound  in  its  not  less  ruinous  coil 
tho  wife,  Biddy.  Tims  nine  young  scions  of 
tho  house  were  left  without  care  or  restraint, 
save  the  brawlings  exchanged  between  them- 
selves, and  the  beatings  bestowed  on  the 
younger  eight  by  the  first-born  of  the  family, 
Nan,  a  briglit  girl  of  seventeen. 

Nan  O'Gorman  was  very  fair,  having  in 
some  way  monopolized  all  tho  beauty  in  tho 
family.  Once  in  a  while  tho  dying  energy  of 
lior  race  would  suddenly  flash  up  in  lior  breast, 
and  for  days  she  would  scrub  and  sweep  the 
cottage,  wabh  the  children's  faces,  switcli  tho 
pigs  from  tlio  door-way,  and  begin  to  spin  yarn 
for  the  winter's  stockings.  Then  the  embers 
would   die   out,  and   Nan  was  off  to  a  race  on 


10 


OEMS  OF  THE  BOO. 


a  slionr,  roturniiigiii  such  company  and  at  buch 
a  time  as  pk-ascd  liersclf.  Moan\vliil«  ilio  little 
ones  got  a  meal,  or  a  crust,  or  went  siipperless 
to  bed,  accordii  2  to  the  quantity  of  whiskey 
their  mother  had  been  able  to  procure.  Is  it 
any  wonder,  then,  that  the  clay  chimney  had 
fallen,  and  that  the  envied  glass  window  had 
been  boarded  up  for  want  of  panes  ? 

While  the  O'Gormans  wore  thus  falling  to 
decay,  the  Shcehans,  who  lived  across  the  way, 
still  prospered  in  woildly  things,  and  kept  up 
their  honor  and  their  name.  Prudence  and  in- 
dustry, long  the  guardians  of  Uieir  humble 
dwelling,  still  spread  their  wings  above  it ; 
plenty  blessed  the  cottage  and  tlie  laud,  and 
none  in  want  wore  ever  scut  empty  from  the 
door.  . 

There  was  not,  and  never  had  boen,oi.v.  point 
ou  which  these  two  families  could  meet  in  sym- 
pathy. "  We  are  no  farther  apart  now,"  said 
John  Sheehan,  the  farmer  of  Daisy  Farm, 
"  than  we  iver  war.  The  O'Gormans  hrvo  been 
Papists  since  the  time  when  there  war  darkness 
on  the  face  o'  the  deep,  as  mentioned  in  Scrip- 


/* 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES  OF  KILLYROOKE     11 


md  at  such 
lij  ilio  littlo 
siipporlesa 
of  whiskey 
euro.  Is  it 
limticy  had 
(riudow  had 

I  falling  to 
iss  the  way, 
id  kept  up 
nice  and  in- 
cir  humble 
i  abovo  it ; 
3  laud,  and 
y  from  the 

n,ohv  point 
loet  in  sym- 
now,"  said 
'aisy  Farm, 
8  hrvo  been 
ar  darkness 
ed  iu  Scrip- 


tur ',  and  the  Shcehans  have  been  Protestants 
since  the  day  in  which  God  said,  '  Let  there  bo 
h-ht.' " 

But  neither  of  these  men,  we  are  sorry  to 
say,  was  a  consistent  defender  of  his  own  faith  ; 
for  while  Pat  O'Gorraan  would  roll  up  his 
sleeves  and  fight  in  defence  of  the  "  mother 
church  "  and  all  her  mummeries,  he  lived  in 
utter  disregard  of  the  decalogue  she  command- 
ed him  to  obey.  And  John  Sheehan,  with  the 
Assembly's  Catechism  on  his  tongue,  and  a 
liatred  of  all  Popery  in  his  heart,  was  only  a 
self-righteous  Pliarisee,  walking  in  the  ligl»t 
of  the  fire  his  own  hands  had  kindled.  He 
gloried  in  his  "la  ning,"  in  his  Protestantism, 
in  his  Scotch  descent,  iu  the  piety  of  his  par- 
ents, in  the  respect  paid  him  in  the  little  Pres- 
byterian church  of  the  next  town,  and  in  every 
thing  he  had  and  did.  Ho  lacked  humility, 
and  was  in  great  danger  of  striking  a  rock,  as 
he  sailed  on  with  his  eyes  shut  to  the  dangers 
aroiuid  him.  Ho  was  blind  while  boasting  of 
his  clear  sight ;  dead  in  siu  while  ho  fancied 
himself  a  living  and  active  member,  to  whom 


A 


iH 


OEMS  OF  THE  BOO. 


the  "  body  of  Christ  "  was  under  great  obliga- 
tion. "  It's  a  fine  thing  to  bo  a  Ciiristian,"  he 
said,  "  but  a  finer  tiling  to  be  a  rispcctiblo 
Christian." 

But, for  all  this  sclf-dcccption,  John  Sheehan 
led  a  very  different  life  from  hi.s  neighbor.  Tiio 
dorniouse-lilte  existence  of  O'Gorman  wo  have 
mentioned  already.  John  Sheehan,  like  Iiis 
ancestors,  was  noted  for  his  mercy  to  the  poor 
and  liis  strict  nttenlion  to  his  own  busi- 
ness. It  was  his  proudest  boast  —  and  John 
was  a  proud  man  —  that  his  ancestors  wore  all 
of  his  own  way  of  tliinking,  and  that  the  grcat- 
great-rrandfathcr  back  of  tiieni  all,  Hugh  Mc- 
Millan, was  a  Scotch  Covenantor;  and  that 
wliilo  a  drop  of  tliat  holy  biood  was  left  in  his 
veins  he  would  liato  sin  and  cleave  to  temper- 
ance and  virtue;  and  that  no  beggar  or  outcast 
should  bo  sent  hungry  from  his  door ;  he  would 
feed  and  shelter  Protestants  for  their  own 
Bakes,  and  Catholics  for  the  love  of  God,  who 
made  and  bears  with  them. 

Daisy  Farm  was  well-tilled,  and  divided  by 
wide  ditches  an.   hedges  of  long  growth,  and 


>")itMd«iii)'.,tiiiB  -  iiiijiiiMi^iwi  ti»tt«ilf  tr. . 


^■i 


THE  FinST  FAMILIES  OF  KILLYROOKE.     13 


ir  great  obliga- 
Cliristiaii,"  he 
1   a   rispcctiblo 

John  Sheehan 
neighbor.  Tlio 
i-inan  we  have 
chan,  like  liis 
•cy  to  the  poor 
[lis  own  busi- 
st  —  and  John 
cstors  wore  all 
tliat  the  grcat- 
\\\,  Hugh  Mc- 
;or ;  and  that 
vas  left  in  his 
ave  to  tcmpcr- 
;gar  or  outcast 
loor ;  he  would 
for  tlieir  own 
I  of  God,  who 

nd  divided  hj 
ij,  growth,  and 


John's  htti'vcsta  were  always  the  richest  in  the 
rcjrion.  His  cattle  were  well  fed  and  housed, 
and  treated  almost  like  members  of  his  family. 
Not  t-cldom  did  ho  address  a  restless  cow  in 
soft  tones,  saying,  "  Gently,  dear,  gently."  He 
was  tlic  soul  of  good  nature,  so  that  the  O'Gor- 
tiiaiis  had  found  it  much  harder  keeping  up 
ciuuity  with  him,  than  with  his  stern,  resolute 
old  father  before  him.  It  was  very  hard  to 
hate  the  man  who  called  their  dirty  children 
"  dearies,"  and  who  fed  them  with  ginger- 
bread. 

As  John  kept  up  the  reputation  of  the  farm, 
so  did  his  wife  that  of  tlie  dairy  and  poultry- 
yard.  Hia  aged  mother  was  still  regarded  as 
head  of  the  family,  and  treated  with  a  defer' 
cnco  amounting  to  veneration.  Her  husband, 
wliilo  he  lived,  had  always  called  her  "  Honey," 
so  her  dairy-maid  and  the  farm-servant  fell  in- 
to the  way  of  calling  her  "  Misthress  Honey," 
and  to  John  she  had  always  been  "  Mammy 
Honey."  And  when  John  lirought  a  young 
mistress  to  the  cottage,  the  good  woman  found 
herself  called  "  Mammy    Honey,"  by  way  of 


14 


GEMS  OF  THE  BOO. 


If 


distiiicHon  from  the  new  Mistress  Shoelian,  by 
all  Killyrooke.  Never  was  a  sweet  name  more 
justly  applied.  Her  gentleness,  love  of  peace 
and  true  generosity  had  long  made  her  a  won- 
der—  almost  an  object  of  awe  —  among  lier 
neiglibors.  To  her  was  due  the  peace  which 
had  cheered  the  last  hours  of  the  old  rivals  — 
her  husband  and  the  father  of  Pat  O' Gorman, 
—  and  her  soft  word  had  often  turned  away 
from  John  and  his  wife  the  wrath  of  the  present 
occupants  of  the  ruined  cot. 

Mammy  Honey  was  not  merely  a  good-tem- 
pered woman ;  she  possessed  a  strong  mind 
and  a  noble  heart.  The  stern  blood  of  the  old 
McMillans  flowed  through  her  veins,  and  the 
faith  whicli  had  enabled  them  to  sing  psalms 
of  triumph  in  the  face  of  tbeir  foes  still  burned 
in  her  heart  and  lighted  up  her  eyes.  Had 
she  lived  in  the  days  of  the  Covenanters, 
rather  than  have  yielded  her  conscience  to  a 
tyrannical  king  she  would  have  added  her 
blood  to  that  wliteh  then  moistened  the  Scottish 
moors. 

For  fifty  years,  since  she  came  a  bride  to 


^^mS&mDKmmKum 


timtt- 


s  Shoehan,  by 
3ot  namo  more 

lovo  of  peace 
ido  her  a  won- 
—  among  lier 
3  peace  whicli 
)  old  rivals  — 
at  O' Gorman, 
L  turned  away 

of  the  present 

[y  a  good-tem- 
strong  mind 
ood  of  the  old 
reins,  and  the 
to  sing  psalms 
les  still  burned 
3r  eyes.  Had 
Covenanters, 
onscience  to  a 
.VQ  added  her 
ed  the  Scottish 

me  a  bride  to 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES  OF  KILLTROOKE.     15 

Killyrooke,  Mammy  Honey  had  walked  blame- 
less among  her  neighbors,  yielding  her  inter- 
ests, her  feelings,  every  thing  but  her  con- 
science, for  peace's  sake.  While  no  bitter 
words  ever  escaped  her  lips  against  the  pre- 
vailing religion,  she  set  her  face  with  Puritanic 
firmuess  against  all  which  she  believed  to  be 
heresy,  so  tiiat  while  serving  and  watchiiig,  as 
had  always  been  her  wont,  by  ti»e  sick-bed  of 
her  neighbors,  she  had  never  suffered  her  eyes 
to  look  upon,  nor  her  ears  to  hear,  the  forms 

* 

and  mummeries  which  she  regarded  as  the 
idolatry  forbidden  in  the  Word  of  Truth. 

While  the  thriftless  women  about  her  en- 
vied her  neat  cottage,  her  fruitful  garden,  and 
her  whole  glass  window,  they  loved  her,  and, 
aside  from  the  rival  O'Gormans,  there  was 
scarcely  one  in  the  hamlet  who  would  have 
listened  silently  while  her  name  was  lightly 
spoken  ;  a  few  were  even  sensitive,  for  her  sake, 
when  the  church  of  her  love  was  reviled. 

When,  arrayed  in  her  brown  Sunday  gown, 
ond  cloak  of  duffle  gray,  with  her  broad  frilled 
cap  bound  to  her  head  by  a  black  ribbou,  and 


4mM>g^ 


16 


OEMS  OF  nil':  Doa. 


^ 


■■■4 


loaning  on  John's  strong  arm,  Mammy  Honey 
walked  erect  and  firm  to  the  little  Presbyte- 
rian cliurch  at  Cloynmally,  she  looked  like  a 
duchess  in  disguise  ratlier  than  like  the  hum- 
ble peasant  slio  was.  ' 

One  Sunday  morning  as  she  set  off  thus,  her 
farm-servant,  Paddy  Mannon  —  of  whom  more 
anon  —  exclaimed  to  a  trail  of  companions 
who  passed  on  their  way  to  mass,  while  ho, 
easy  soul,  sf|t  astride  the  stile  gazing  at  them, 
"Look  at  her,  b'ys,  this  gold  morning! 
Heaven  smile  on  her  beauty!  Sure,  thin, 
she  was  made  for  a  throne,  but  sint  in  mis- 
take to  a  farm ;  and  will  ye  dare  to  say  that 
because  she  turns  her  back  on  the  church,  and 
*  his  riverenco,'  and  the  saints,  and  the  picturs, 
and  the  beads,  that  she'll  not  enter  heaven  ? 
'Dade  I'll  fight  the  first  one  as  dares  say  it ; 
and  ril  bet  my  new  brogues  with  any  of  ye 
that  tliere's  not  as  fine-looking  a  woman  in 
heaven  now  as  herself  is  —  tlie  bet  to  be  paid 
when  we  gits  there  and  proves  it."  And  Paddy 
jvinked  at  his  comrades,  to  impress  them  with 
his  shrewdness,  while  they  laughed  and  called 


'm/iMKirtuK:m»mi»«a0inmiaeta>m^ 


THE  FIRST  FAMILIES  OF  KILLYROOKE.     17 


laininy  Iloiioy 
ttlo   Prcsl»yto- 

loukcd  like  a 
like  tho  hum- 
it  off  thus,  lier 
jfwlioiu  more 
'  companions 
ass,  while  he, 
zing  at  them, 
>ld  morning ! 
!  Sure,  thin, 
tt  sint  in  mis- 
ire  to  say  that 
le  church,  and 
nd  the  picturs, 
3ntcr   heaven  ? 

dares  say  it ; 
rith  auy  of  ye 
;  a  woman   in 

bet  to  be  paid 
."  And  Paddy 
ress  them  with 
iied  and  called 


back,  "  How  comes  it,  Paddy,  that  ye  'bides  in 
tlio  true  churdi  ycrpelf,  while  ye  believe  that 
Protestants  will  entar  heaven  as  well  as  our- 
selves ?  " 

"  How  is  it,  indade  ?  "  replied  Paddy.  "  It's 
because  I  was  boru  in  it,  and  can't  throw  it 
off  like  ray  coat,  and  I  wouldn't  if  I  could, be 
so  mane.  I'm  not  plazed  wif'  the  freckles  on 
my  face,  but  do  ye  think  I'm  going  to  skin 
myself  to  get  clear  o'  them  ?  I  don't  like 
these  dull  little  eyes  o'  my  own,  but  do  ye 
tliink  I'll  pull  them  out  o'  my  head  for  that 
same  ?  Indade,  no !  I  stands  on  my  honor,  I 
docs,  in  this  matter  o'  religion  ;  and  though' 
tliouiKclves  has  fed,  and  clothed,  a'  J  rared  me 
from  a  starved  workhouse-child,  I'll  not  throw 
up  my  religion  to  plazo  them.  I'm  great  on 
conscience,  and  I'm  not  the  h'y  to  sell  my 
principles  for  a  home,  my  birthright  for  a  bowl 
()'  porridge,  as  one  meau-sperited  lad  in  tho 
Scriptur'  did  ;  not  I." 

Paddy  was  a  man  made  up  of  contradictions, 
lie  was  faithful  to  tlie  Sheehans  but  he  was 
so  (jareless  of  the  poor  wages  he  earned  that 


wi0m\ 


«RPB 


rs 


OEMS  OF  TIIK  BOa. 


1 


lio  cither  gave  or  tlwcw  thcLi  away  as  soon  as 
he  got  tlieiu.  lie  Iiad  a  x^ifo  and  child,  and 
would  go  almost  wild  with  joy  when  they  came 
to  see  him,  hut  if  months  elapsed  without  a 
visit,  he  never  sought  them  out,  nor  felt  any 
anxiety  for  their  welfare.  He  made  all  man- 
ner of  sport  of  "  his  riveronce  and  the  church," 
but  almost  fell  on  his  knees  at  sight  of  the 
priest,  and  shook  with  fear  when  rebuked  by 
him  for  unfaithfulness.  He  was  as  light- 
hearted  as  the  colt  he  was  rearing,  and  felt  no 
more  care  for  the  future.  It  was  joy  enough 
for  him  to  live,  and  "  sarve  Misthress  Honey." 


(^- 


— Al 


?-^i. 

■■^'k 


ay  ns  soon  as 
nd  child,  and 
len  they  came 
;cd  without  a 
,  nor  felt  ony 
lade  all  man- 
[  the  church," 
sight  of  the 
1  rebuked  by 
vm  as  light- 
g,  and  felt  no 
IS  joy  enough 
ress  Honey." 


CHAPTER  n. 


A   NEW  MISTRESS. 


JOHN  Sheohan  had  lived  many  years  after 
his  father's  death  with  no  companion  but  his 
mother  and  Faddy  Mannon.  Being  of  a  very 
social  nature,  he  sometimes  complained  that 
tiic  cottage  was  "  a  dale  too  silent  and  lone  " 
for  him;  and  yet  he  had  reached  thirty  without 
a  tliought  of  marrying.  When  one  suggested 
tiiat  he  needed  a  wife,  he  would  ask,  with  filial 
jealousy,  "  Do  ye  see  any  thing  goin'  wrong 
about  the  cottage  or  farm,  that  a  wife  could 
mend  ?  And  where  would  I  ever  find  a  woman 
tliat  would  bide  bein'  subject  to  Mammy 
Honey  ?  And  that  every  body  about  mo  shall 
be,  while  Heaven  spares  her — the  darling." 

He  had  scarcely  uttered  these  words  to  a 
neighbor  who  was  bantering  him  one  day,  when 
ho  drove  off  to  sell  five  "  lovely  young  pigs  " 


.^^r-  .r.'':i'^rm  jig^i-'gy— • " 


80 


QEMS  OF  TEE  BOO. 


I 


to  Farmer  Doane,  a  prosperous  man  in  the  next 
county.  Arrived  there,  lie  received  a  welco*ne 
botli  as  nicrcliaiit  and  as  guest,  and  after 
pocketing  his  silver,  took  his  place  at  the  long 
deal  table,  on  which  smoked  the  sweet  bacon, 
potatoes  ai)d  cabbage  raised  on  tiio  farm.  Here 
his  eye  fell  on  Peggy  O'Canty,  a  young  orphan 
who  assisted  the  good  wife  in  the  dairy,  and 
whom  the  worthy  couple  alveays  addressed  as 
"  Peggy,  jewel."  Ho  stole  one  sly  glance  at 
her  as  she  poured  out  the  buttermilk  at  table, 
and  another  when  he  left  the  kitchen  to  ac- 
company Doaiie  to  the  cow-houso ;  and  then 
he  mustered  courage  to  ask  her  name  and 
history. 

In  a  marvellously  short  time  John  had  pigs 
to  sell  again,  to  the  great  amazement  of  Mam- 
my Honey,  who  looked  upon  it  very  much  like 
selling  her  relations ;  and  in  this  second  visit 
to  Doane's  ho  fairly  lost  his  heart,  and  came 
home  laying  plans  to  brighten  up  the  cottage, 
and  buy  a  new  donkey-cart  and  a  suit  of 
"  younger-lookin'  clothes." 

When  he  got  t*addy  Mannou  off  to  his  bed 


*^ 


owdMMKMiMltWOxMtMllnt., 


A  NEW  MISTRESS. 


%l 


an  in  ilie  next 
ired  a  wclcoTie 
ist,  and  after 
CO  at  the  long 
3  sweet  bacon, 
10  farm.  Hero 
young  orphan 
the  dairy,  and 
addressed  as 
sly  glance  at 
milk  at  table, 
itchen  to  ac- 
so ;  and  then 
or    naino  and 

John  had  pigs 
ment  of  Main- 
ery  much  like 
8  second  visit 
art,  and  came 
3  the  cottage, 
ud    a  suit  of 


)ff  to  his  bed 


in  the  loft  that  night,  John  opened  his  mind  to 
his  mother,  dwelling  on  Peggy's  charms  of 
face,  and  manner,  and  heart,  as  if  he  had 
known  her  for  years,  while  the  truth  was  ho 
had  never  yet  spoken  to  her!  "And  now, 
Mammy  Honey,"  he  said,  "here's  the  way 
open  for  mo  to  have  company,  and  for  yo  to 
have  liclp  in  the  cottage  and  the  dairy ;  what 
would  you  say  to  my  bringing  her  here  ?  " 

"  I'd  think  well  o'  it,  John,"  replied  the  old 
woman,  "  if  I  knew  she  war  a  humble,  God- 
fearing child,  for  it's  such  a  one  yo  need,  and 
not  a  flighty  thing  that  would  be  running  ofif  to 
fairs  and  races  and  leading  ye  farther  off  from 
God  —  which  same  is  unneodful.  Ye  must  ride 
over  to  Doane's  some  day  and  ask  him  is  tho 
girl  a  Protestant  and  a  Christian,  and  does  she 
mind  her  duty  humbly,  as  if  sho  felt  tho 
Masther's  eye  on  her.  And  more,  John,  dear, 
ask  is  sho  tinder  and  loving ;  for  I  could  niver 
give  ye  up  without  getting  back  love  as  my 
payment ;  for  yc  aro  all  I  have  loft  in  tho  world, 
now!  O,  lad,  it's  a  great  thing  for  a  mother 
to  give  her  only  son  to  another  woman,  and 


a 


* 


22 


GEMS  OF  THE  BOG. 


one  she  niver  saw !  But  as  I  have  not  been  a 
selfisli  inotiior,  no  more  will  I  be  now !  May 
ton  thousand  blessings  rest  on  ye  both,  darling, 
and  may  I  live  to  see  yo  Imppy  together." 

John  soon  "  got  leave  of  his  mother"  —  ho 
was    a  man  of   six  feet    two,  weighing    two 
hundred  pounds !  —  "to  ask  a  lino  of  character 
from  the   minister  of  Oloynmally   to  Peggy's 
master,  bogging    his    leave    to    marry    her." 
Hitherto  Peggy  had  never  heard  of  his  inten- 
tions, and  was  quite  amazed  when  her  master 
explained   matters  to  her  in   presence  of  the 
suitor.     After    John   had  left   the   house,  she 
expressed  great  surprise  to  her  mistress  why 
such  a  fine,  settled  body  should  bo  looking  after 
a  poor,  foolish,  shy  tiling  like  herself.     But  the 
acquaintance  grow  and   ripened  as  well   as  it 
would  have  done    environed   by   the   strictest 
rules  of  etiquette.     When  at  last  the  matter 
was  settled,  Peggy  could  hardly  toll  which  she 
loved    most,  John    or  his  mother.     She  was 
quite  as  proud  of  Mammy  Honey  —  who  had 
visited  ht>r  with  an  offering  of  ten  hanks  of 
flax  yarn,  ten  ells  of  lineu  aud  six  pairs  of 


.  ^iViiiai::  w^^a:Lv;&i:sK.j'. . 


#ar 


Q  not  been  a 
>  now !  May 
joth,  darling, 
;otlier." 
other"  —  ho 
3ighing  two 
of  character 

to  Peggy's 
aarry  her." 
>f  his  inten- 

her  master 
once  of  tlio 

house,  she 
listrcss  why 
ooking  after 
ir.  But  the 
I  well  as  it 
he  strictest 

the  matter 
.1  which  she 
.  She  was 
—  who  had 
1  hanks  of 
ix  pairs  of 


A  NEW  MJSTRE88.  28 

stockings  —  as  of  her  son,  "the  fine  settled 
masther." 

When  the  marriage  ceremony  was  over, 
John  brought  Pcfegy  homo  in  the  new  donkey- 
cart, —  tlie  only  equipage  his  establishment 
boasted.  Manuny  tloncy  stood  in  the  cottago 
door  arrayed  in  her  besi  cap  and  gown,  to 
receive  them,  while  Paddy  Mannon,  in  his 
Sunday  corduroys  and  brogues,  took  the 
donkey's  bridle,  and  stood  waiting  to  witness 
Peggy's  reception.  j   ' 

F«lding  the  young  orphan  to  her  breast, 
Mannny  Honey  cried  out,  with  the  eloquence  of 
her  people,  "  Blissed  bo  the  God  and  Father 
of  the  orphan,  that  has  this  day  given  ye  a 
mother,  Peggy  O'Canty !  Blissed  be  the  God 
and  husband  of  the  widow,  that  has  this  day 
given  me  a  daughter,  who  never  had  a  one 
before  !  It  is  this  old  heart,  jewel,  lAiat  will 
hide  ye  where  trouble  can  never  find  ye ;  and 
it's  on  yer  loviu'  breast,  mavourneen,  that 
I'll  loan  and  forget  there's  such  things  as  old 
age  and  wakeness  in  the  world." 

Then  throwing  her  arms  around  the  stalwart 


i 


i?i;i 


mi 

Hi 


11 


GEMS  OF  TBFI  BOO. 


form  of  John,  she  cried  out,  "  Ye,  darlin', 
are  the  con  o'  a  righteous  man,  and  have  come 
of  a  long  line  o'  them  that  feared  God.  Tlie 
promise  to  the  seed  o'  thd  rigliteous  has  been 
fulfilled  to  ye,  and  see  now  t'.iat  ye  'bide  in  the 
fear  o'  God  and  seek  Him  henceforth  with  tlie 
whole  heart.  Look,  boy,"  she  continued, 
"  and  see  what  God  has  given  ye  to  make 
your  home  shine  like  heaven,  and  to  close  the 
dying  eyes  o'  yer  ^!d  motlier !  God  save  ye, 
John,  from  ever  piercing  her  heart  with  one 
sharp  word.  And  now  the  grace  o'  God  Jjido 
on  ye  both  and  on  this  house  !  " 

Peggy  was  a  blue-eyed,  fair-haired  girl, 
"made  of  love,  entirely,"  John  himself — and 
who  should  know  better  than  he  ?  —  being 
witness  in  the  case.  She  loved  everything, 
from  John  and  liis  mother  down  to  the  ducks 
and  th^chr"kens ;  whatever  had  life  shared  in 
her  love  or  pity.  She  now  bound  up  her  hair 
under  a  snowy  cap,  saying,  "  As  John  are  ten 
years  older  nor  me,  he'll  be  plazed  to  see  me 
layin'  oflF  girlish  ways  and  lookin'  sober-like." 
Bhe  applied    Lersolf  to   her  work  with  that 


--0mm^^^  ui 


r- 


A   NEW  MISTRESS. 


25 


«Yo,  darlin', 
and  have  come 
ed  God.  Tlie 
:eous  has  been 
jre  'bide  in  the 
iforth  with  tlie 
lie    contiiined, 

ye  to  make 
d  to  close  tlie 
God  save  yo, 
iart  witli  one 
)  o'  God  Jjido 

ir-liaircd  girl, 
himself —  and 
he  ?  —  being 
5d  everything, 
1  to  the  ducks 
life  shared  in 
d  up  her  hair 
I  John  are  ten 
ized  to  see  me 
i'  sober-like." 
>rk  with  that 


gliid  spirit  wliicli  changes  toil  to  a  blessing, 
iiiid  «)oii  bccaiiio  the  modol  wife  of  the  region. 
The  whitest  flax,  tlio  sweetest  butter  and  the 
brightest  licarth-stoiie  were  hers.  But  such 
was  lier  liumility  that  she  took  none  of  the 
credit,  but  always  spoke  of  "  Mammy  Honey's 
silver  flax "  and  "  Mammy  Honey's  golden 
i)iittcr ;  ■ '  and  wondered  why  John  ever  chose 
her  for  his  wife,  and  how  Mammy  Honey 
could  l)ear  so  patiently  with  her  slow  ways, 
and  never  weary  teaching  her  her  own  "  il- 
cgant "  ones !  .        , 

"^Uny  a  richer  and  wiser  bride  has  gone  to 
her  husband's  home  without  such  a  welcome  as 
Poggy  received  at  Daisy  Farm;  many  a 
mother  has  given  away  a  son  with  no  such  re- 
turn of  love  to  cheer  Jier  declining  days  as  that 
in  wiiicli  Mammy  Honey  now  rejoiced,  and  for 
which  she  praised  God  in  prayer  and  song,  and 
tliank-offorings  to  every  beggar  she  could  find. 
And  the  thatch,  which  she  declared  was  "just 
full  o'  the  prayers  of  centuries,"  sheltered  a 
happier  family  than  did  the  lofty  dome  and 
wainscoted  walls  of  Harploy  Hall,  —  the  seat  of 


I 


i9 


.«5 


'I'll 


m 


OEMS  OF  THE  BOG. 


the  gentleman  who  owned  and  neglected  Killy- 
rooke,  and  the  region  between  it  and  his  fine 
mansion. 

Years  wore  on  at  Daisy  Farm.  The  family 
had  their  sorrows,  but  tiiey  were  hardly  worth 
the  name.  John  had  lost  a  donkey  one  year 
and  a  cow  the  next,  and  Mammy  Honey  was 
afflicted  by  "gapes"  among  her  feathered 
family,  beside  having  a  pet  lamb  mangled  and 
torn  by  the  ferocious  dog  of  the  0' Gorman 
boys.  But  Peggy's  trials  were  the  sorest, 
while  she  had  the  least  strength  to  endure 
them.  Her  careless  neighbor  across  the  way 
was  constantly  accusing  the  innocent  creature 
of  trying  to  outsiiine  her  in  the  neatness  of  her 
person  and  in  the  order  of  her  household,  —  a 
t''iug  easily  done  by  any  one.  The  neglected 
little  ones,  catcfiing  the  spirit  of  their  mother, 
felt  at  liberty  to  annoy  her  also.  The  big  boj  ii 
stoned  her  ducks,  stole  her  Christmas  turkeys, 
and  turned  their  half-famished  pigs  into  her 
cherished  cabbage  garden.  But,  according  to 
her  first  resolution,  she  returned  good  for  evil, 
and,  with  the  sympathy  of  Mammy   Honey, 


A  NEW  MISTRESS. 


W' 


I 


3glected  Killy- 
t  and  his  fine 

I.  The  family 
hardly  worth 
ikoy  Olio  year 
ly  Honey  was 
her  feathered 
mangled  and 
lie  0' Gorman 
e  the  sorest, 
th  to  endure 
jross  the  way 
>cent  creature 
eatness  of  her 
ousehold,  —  a 
riio  neglected 
their  mother, 
The  big  boj  a 
tmas  turkeys, 
pigs  into  her 
,  according  to 
good  for  evil, 
mmy   Honey, 


bore  their  insults  with  meekness  and  patience. 
Once,  sorely   annoyed,  she  shed   tears,  when 
I  that  old   piiilosopher  said,  in  soothing  tones, 
"It's  yer  ould  mammy  that  knows,  mavour- 
necn,  how  hard  all  this  is  to  the  flesh,  for  she's 
gone  through  it  for  nigh  half  a  cent'ry  with 
the  O'Gormans  in  the  grave    and  them  alive  ; 
and  I   can  say  this  for  my   promise-keepin' 
God,  that  so   has  He  helped  me  through  all 
these  years  that  I  never  gave  them  back  au 
angry  word,  or  laid   up  one  ha'   pcth   o'  re- 
viiige  agin  them,  but  always  pitied  them.    And 
so  I  did,  dear,  till  the  pity  turned  to  love,  and 
in   tlie  end   brought   back    love   again.     For 
wlicn  the  ould  mother  o'  this  man  come  down 
to  death,  it  was  I  alone  must  smooth  her  pil- 
j  low  and   mix   her   drink,  and   I  —  Protestant 
tliougli  I  was  —  must  close  her  eyes  in  death. 
I  She  remembered  how  patient  I  had  borne  with 
!  her,  and  this  was  all  the  way  she  had  o'  asking 
I  my  forgiveness.     And  if  she  had  not  it  would 
ha'  been  all  the  same,  for  God  never  forgets, 
jewel!    Patience  with  them  will  bring  heaps 
I  of  heaven's  gold  into  yer  own  heart,  and  ye'U 


'9 


t 


28 


OEMS  OF  THE  BOO. 


•  find  tliat  even  them  is  helpin'  ye  on  in  the  road 
to  glory,  by-aiid-by." 

And  under  such  wise  instructions  Peggy 
took  up  the  cross  which  the  old  saint  was 
about  laying  down,  and  moved  meekly  on. 

Now  the  cruel  neighbor  had  one  cause  of 
boasting  of  wliich  poor  Peggy  was  very  sensi- 
tive. She  had,  in  her  own  words,  "  nine  as 
bulky  childer  as  ye  could  find  ony  day  at 
Blarney  Fair."  Peggy  had  none,  and  John 
was  fond  of  children  even  to  a  weakness.  But 
the  pure-hearted  creature  was  resolved  to  turn 
even  this  bitter  cup  to  one  of  sweetness,  by  her 
submission  to  God's  will,  and  her  tenderness 
towards  all  little  children.  So,  when  he:'  ca.o- 
less  neighbor  was  away  from  home,  she  would 
call  in  two  or  three  of  the  youngest  of  the 
flock,  and  after  treating  them  to  clean  faces, 
would  feed  them  with  her  sweet  bread  and 
milk,  and  keep  them  till  John's  return  from 
the  field,  knowing  how  fond  he  was  of  chil- 
dren's prattle. 

Once  when  "  the  masthor  "  expressed  pleas- 
ure at  their  frolicsome  ways,  she  said,  "I'll 


SSSnummmmim 


JO. 

0  ou  ill  the  road 

tructions  Peggy 

1  old   saint  was 
meekly  on. 

i  one  cause  of 
was  very  sensi- 
rords,  "nine  as 
ind  ony  day  at 
none,  and  John 
weakness.  But 
resolved  to  turn 
iveetness,  by  her 

her  tenderness 
,  when  he:'  cato- 
lomo,  she  would 
jroungest  of  the 

to  clean  faces, 
nreet  bread  and 
ii's  return  from 
he  was  of  chil- 


A  y^EW  MISTRESS. 


29 


bring  them  over  ony  day,  dear,  to  play  with 
yp,  iHit  neither  yer  mother  nor  myself  Is  plazed 
to  have  ye  cross  the  street  after  them,  nor  yet 
to  chat  with  their  father  as  ye  have  o'  late  ; " 
f.)r  she  liad  noticed  that  for  the  last  few  weeks 
O'Gorman  had  frequently  called  to  him  to 
cou»e  over  and  hear  a  letter  from  Jim,  in 
"  Amciiky,"  or  to  smoke  a  pipe  with  him. 
Tiiis  was  an  unwonted  civility  which  John 
had  not  power  to  refuse  —  indeed,  he  had 
not  power  to  refuse  anything  to  anybody, 
lie  had  been  held  in  by  his  stern  father  and 
his  resolute  mother  from  going  among  evil 
con)panions,  but  he  had  never  yet  learned  to 
say  "no"  in  his  own  name.  And  no  man, 
however  old  he  may  be,  is  safe  till  he  can  do 
that. 


1 


expressed  pleas- 
she  said,  "  I'll 


/-^ 


t 


CHAPTER  III. 


MAMMY    HONET. 

AD  ARK  day  comos  sooner  or  later  to  every 
dwelling.  If  no  other  shadow  falls  across 
its  sunshine,  death's  surely  will,  and  sad  in- 
deed is  the  home  over  which  his  wing  broods. 

Mammy  Honey  was  now  ncaring  the  end 
of  her  fourscore  years.  Her  labors  had  been 
one  by  one  relinquished;  her  dairy  was  no 
longer  inspected  daily,  the  music  of  her  flax- 
wheel  had  ceased,  and  lastly,  the  bright  knit- 
ting-needles had  been  passed  through  the  gray 
ball  and  laid  away  forever.  But  still  her  heart 
was  fresh  and  warm,  and  ther^^fore  she  had 
not  outlived  her  usefulness ;  there  were  yet 
some  little  acts  of  love  which  she  could  per- 
form for  her  children. 

But  one  night  —  a  night  never  to  bo  forgot- 
ten at  Daisy  Farm  —  she  was  prostrated  by  a 

M 


•as 


MAMMY  nONET. 


81 


or  later  to  every 
;dow  falls  across 
ill,  and  sad  iii- 
3  wing  broods, 
jaring  the  end 
abors  bad  been 
'  dairy  was  no 
sic  of  lier  flax- 
;be  brigbt  knit- 
irougli  tlie  gray 
t  still  ber  bcart 
rv^fore  sbe  bad 
tbero  were  yet 
sbo  could  per- 

Br  to  bo  forgot- 
prostrated  by  a 


siuliieii  palsy,  and   became  tbenceforth  like  a 
Jiolpk'ss  cbild  in  tbc  care  of  Peggy. 

"  It's  a  life's  load  ye'a  got  now,"  cried  out 
licr  iiurd-hearted  neigbbor  to  Peggy,  tbc  morn- 
ing aftor  tliis  calamity.  "  Tiio  Slicebans  will 
get  good  pay  out  of  ye  now,  for  all  tbe  fine  liv- 
ing yo've  bad  tiiere  tbcso  last  years!  Ocb, 
but  she'll  bo  a  burden !  " 

"  0,  no,  don't  say  tbat,  neigbbor,"  replied 
Peggy.  "It's  such  a  burden  as  I  pray  God 
to  lot  me  carry  to  tbo  end  o'  ray  days.  If 
He'll  only  spare  ber  to  me,  I'll  bo  tbo  tbank- 
fulest  cbild  Ho  bas  in  all  tbc  wide  world,  and 
never  weary  o'  ber  day  or  nigbt  —  tbe  darlin'." 
"  Ye  know  well  tbat  this  is  a  widow's  curse 
that  has  fallen  on  tbe  ould  body,  o'  course  ?  " 
j  asked  Biddy  O'Gorman. 

"  A  curse  fallen  on  ber    blissed  bead  ?    It 
I  can  never  be !  "  replied  Peggy,  turning  pale. 

"Yis  that  same,"    repeated    Mrs.     Biddy. 

["It  was  this  way:  When  Jobn  and   my  bus- 

I  band  were  b'ys,  there  cam'  along  ould  Bet  Mig- 

honl  teilin'  fortun's,  and  as  yer  kitchen  was 

the  iiugest  in  Killyrooko,  sbe  asked  might  tiio 


4. 


30 


8S 


GEMS  OF  THE  BOG. 


crowds  como  to  lier  there.  And  Maminy 
Slicohaii  said,  '  No  deeds  o'  darkness  shall 
ho  done  benath  the  roof  through  which  prayer 
lias  risen  night  and  morn  for  more  nor  a  cen- 
tury.' Tiicn  Bet  was  sore  angered,  and  stand- 
ing in  the  road  just  fornint  the  door,  she 
pulled  off  her  cap  and  let  her  gray  locks  fly  to 
tlio  winds,  while  she  prayed  that  Mammy 
Sheclian  might,  afore  she  died,  lose  the 
power  to  ask  a  drink  o'  water,  and  that  no 
child  might  ever  after  be  horn  in  that  cottage 
again  —  and  so  there  hav'n't  —  and  worse 
nor  all,  that  her  heart  might  be  broken  by 
the  child  she  had  that  time,  —  that's  John." 

"  What,  not  my  darlin'  John  ?  "  cried 
Peggy,  leaning  against  the  donkey-post  for 
support. 

"  Yis,  that  same,"  replied  Biddy, . "  and 
then  she  prayed,  too,  that  the  son  o'  them 
who  did  resave  her  in  —  that's  ray  husband  — 
niigiit  have  as  many  childor  as  there  war 
moons  in  the  year,  and  thim  all  grow  to  bo 
lords  and  ladies ! "  and  the  cnicl  woman  held 
up  her   rosy  infant   before  Peggy,   and   then 


€~ 


% 


And  Mammy 
jarkiicss  iiliall 
I  which  prayer 
are  nor  a  cen- 
cd,  and  stand- 
tho  door,  sho 
ray  locks  fly  to 

that  Mammy 
led,  lose  tho 
,  and  that  no 
'.n  that  cottage 
;  —  and   worse 

be  broken  by 
lat's  John." 
ohn  ?  "     cried 
oukoy-post  for 

Biddy, . "  and 
son  o'  them 
nay  husband  — 
as  there  war 
ill  grow  to  be 
cl  woman  held 
rjrv,   and  theu 


MAMMY  HONEY.  8t 

prcMSud  it  to  her  breast,  casting,  as  she  did 
so,  a  look  of  trinmpli  at  tlie  terrified  listener. 

"  Tlic  curse  about  no  more  childer  in  the 
cuttugo  has  come  true,  then ;  and  now  the 
palsy  will  forbid  the  ould  body  to  ask  water, 
and  the  other  one  about  John,  —  well,  well, 
there's  no  tcUin'  what  a  man  will  come  to, 
till  he's  safe  in  his  grave  !  "  added  she. 

"0,  Biddy,  ye  scare  the  life  out  o'  me," 
cried  Peggy,  and  then  she  rushed,  pale  and 
breathless,  towards  the  cottage.  The  rasping 
tones  of  Biddy's  voice  had  pierced  tho  little 
room  where  Mammy  Honey  lay  in  her  weak- 
ness, and  she  cried,  as  Peggy  entered,  "  Come 
hero,  flower  o'  my  heart !  Surely,  yor  fear  o' 
a  sinful  woman  is  not  greater  nor  your  trust 
in  God !  His  blissing  rested  on  this  cottage 
long  years  after  I  smoothed  tho  dying  pillow 
o'  poor  Bet  in  the  workhouse,  and  will  yet 
rest  here  if  ye  'bide  in  His  love.  The  lack  o' 
cliilder  is  sometimes  the  lack  o'  sorrow,  and 
God  knows  best  where  to  sind  them.  Theu, 
the  last  evil  word  she  spoke  —  about  my  John 
—  0,  Peggy,  if  he  goes  asthray  when  I'm  no 


,.« 


H 


OEMS  OF  THE  BOG. 


longer  here  to  hould  him  in,  it'll  bo  because  o' 
the  evil  in  his  heart,  and  not  for  her  curse; 
for  she  knew  no  more  o'  the  futur'  nor  ye  do. 
He's  powerful  o'  body,  but  he's  wake  o'  will, 
Peggy,  and  he's  fearful  forgetful  o'  his  Maker. 
Watch  him,  and  pray  for  him,  dear,  when 
I'm  at  rest.  I've,  laid  down  that  burden  now, 
and  though  his  feet  may  slide  sometimes,  I 
know  ho  will  be  brought  in  at  tho  last." 

Harvest  was  drawing  on,  and  John  Shcehau 
had  his  reapers  all  engaged ;  and  an  uncouth 
and  famished-looking  set  they  wore,  gathered 
from  the  road  where  they  were  begging  for 
work,  as  starving  men  beg  for  broad. 

John  was  full  of  business,  and  of  joy,  too  ; 
for  the  harvest  was  very  heavy  and  tho  >ycath- 
er  fine.  "  Pcggj',  dear,"  he  said,  "  one  pair  o' 
hands  can  never  fade  this  host  o'  men,  and 
tind  on  the  dairy,  and  wait  on  tho  Mammy 
Honey.  Now,  dear,  let  us  call  in  a  nurse  to 
mind  her,  or  ye'll  destroy  yerself  before  this 
hard  season  is  over." 

Mamuiy  Honey  heard  this  from  her  little  inner 
room.    Her  will  was  as  strong  as  ever,  and  so 


■II  r  I  ■liiiira^ltiiiilMII<Wllt 


■« 


bo  because  o' 

for  her  curse ; 

ur'  nor  ye  do. 

i  wake  o'  will, 

o'  his  Maker. 

1,  dear,  wheu 

burden    now, 

sometimes,  I 

lio  last." 

John  Shcehau 

d  an  uncouth 

were,  gathered 

•e   begging  for 

'ead. 

id  of  joy,  too  ; 
md  the  >7eath- 
J,  "  one  pair  o' 
t  o'  men,  and 
ti  the  Mammy 
in  a  nurse  to 
self  before  this 


1  her  little  inner 
as  ever,  and  so 


MAJLVr  HONEY. 


U 


was  his  obedience  to  it.  "  No,  John,"  s'.ie 
cried,  "  ye  can  niver  tako  away  the  child  God 
sont  me  in  my  old  ago,  to  fade  your  men. 
Yc  can  call  in  somebody  to  do  your  rough 
work,  and  pay  lier  for  it ;  but  I  can  not  buy 
siicli  love  and  tiuderncas  as  Peggy's  with 
gold ;  and  the  life  would  just  go  out  o'  mo 
if  I  lost  the  sight  o'  her  dear  eyes.  'Bide 
by  your  poor  failin'  mother,  Feggy,  dear,"  she 
cried  imploringly. 

"  So  I  will,  darlin',"  replied  the  gentle  Peg- 
gy, "  though  the  rapors  should  starve  for  it. 
Better  the  mildew  fall  on  the  grain  than  ye  bo 
neglected  that  has  been  every  other  body's 
sarvaut  in  sickness.  And  more  nor  that,  it's 
a  small  while  only  that  I'll  have  ye,  and  I 
grudges  every  hour  that  Pm  losin'  o'  yer  com- 
puiiy.  It's  not  an  hour  agono  since  yon  bright 
Niu\  O'Gorman  sprang  over  the  stile,  begging 
would  I  suffer  har  to  come  in  and  hilp  rao 
tlirough  till  harvest.  She  says  it's  a  sorry 
lifo  she  lades  at  homo,  betwano  the  abuse  o' 
her  mother  and  the  throublo  o'  the  childor. 
She's  a  fair,  pTeasant-voiced  cretur,  and  it's  a 


I 


r^ 


86 


OEMS  OF  THE  BOO. 


pity  no  ono  takes  lior  by  tlio  hand  to  save  her. 
I'd  a  mind  to  ax  ye  might  I  bid  her  in  to  the 
kitchen  for  ton  days ;  but  then  the  thought  o' 
her  mother,  and  the  fearful  scavin'  she  gave 
me  about  yon  beggar's  curse  come  over  me, 
and  I  hadn't  power  to  be  spakin'  their  name." 

"  No,  no,  my  jewel,  that  will  never  do ! "  re- 
plied Mammy  Honey.  "  There's  evil  blood 
ill  the  veins  o'  the  whole  race.  Tiiey  tri- 
umphed over  mo  when  tlie  hand  o'  tlio  Lord 
touched  me.  The  sua  could  not  shine  on  the 
harvest  if  the  reapers  as  gathered  it  war  fed 
by  an  O'Gorman,  nor " 

Hero  Mammy  Honey  stopped  suddenly,  and 
throwing  up  her  hands  as  if  "tartlird  by  I. or 
own  words,  cried,  ••  Alas,  alas,  chil<.ler !  what  am 
I  saying  ?  1b  thi?  the  spirit  o'  Him  that  spint 
His  last  breath  prayin'  for  his  inomios  ?  Is 
this  all  the  mootness  I  have  for  liio  homo  I'm 
roachirs'  after,  and  whoso  (ioors  is  just  opening 
to  let  me  in  ?  Ts  thero  more  hatred  and  rcvinge 
jumy  heart,  now  that  I  stand  on  ^J.c  brink  o' 
Jor>]aa  and  soo  the  promi;ied  l\  ,  iSm  when 
I  was  far  hv<ik  in  the  highways  o'  h'o  ?    Have 


limkJX'W!:- 


€- 


MAMMY  HONET. 


to  save  her. 
er  iu  to  the 
)  thought  o' 
i'   she  gave 
10  over  me, 
eir  name." 
or  do!"  re- 
evil  blood 
They  tri- 
o'  the  Lord 
ihino  on  the 
1  it  war  fed 

iiddenly,  and 
rthrd  by  l.or 
er !  what  am 
m  tiiat  spint 
inemios  ?  Is 
iio  home  I'm 
just  opeuhig 
I  and  revingo 
Hl.o  brink  o' 
<],  i^m  when 
'  Ufo  ?    Have 


I  no  hungcrin'  after  their  salvation,  and  no 
loiij^in'  to  uicot  tlicm  where  foem  cannot  meet? 
Woe's  mo !  Now  can  I  cry  our  in  spirit, '  Who 
sliiill  deliver  me  from  tiie  body  o'  tills  death  ?  * 
I  thought  I  was  done  with  sin ;  but  oh,  the 
evil  one  holds  on  to  God's  own  with  a  pow- 
erful grasp !  He'd  triumph  now  could  he  but 
bring  down  me  that  he's  had  so  many  battles 
with ;  but  he'll  niver  do  it,  for  Him  that  has 
redeemed  mo  has  said, '  None  shall  pluck  them 
out  of  my  hands.'  I'll  show  Sa(,iia  that 
though  llosh  and  heart  is  failin,'  I'm  yet  able 
to  wirhstand  him,  and  to  war  agin  the  flebh 
too.  John,  go  across  the  street  and  bid  iu 
that  poor  uncared  for  girl ;  r.ud  who  know^s 
but  God  will '  low  Peggy  to  liape  coals  o'  firo 
on  their  heads  by  making  her  a  thrifty,  mod- 
est and  honest  woman  ?  She  war  a  pretty 
buby  —  Nan  —  and  a  fair-faced  child,  till  the 
brazen  look  o'  the  mother  crept  into  her  eyes. 
And  now  go  awhile  to  your  work,  dears,  and 
lot  mo  be  alone  with  God."  *!  •« 

The  next  day,  the  brigiit,  careless  Nan  was 
installed  iu  Peggy's  kitchen ;   and  although 


^1 


3,  OBMS  or  mB  BOO. 

*„  foil  far  Moy,  H.e  good  woman's  .tanaard 
:;„oa.»c..a„dn.oaos.,,B.,os„rpri,=a.,orby 

,,„r  quickuOBS  and  her  roadinoss  to  loavn. 

ptgy.  hoart  was  f«U  of  o.c«»oa  for  Ho 
„„tratcdd»ld,.,ow.l™o,tawo,oaua„d»Uo 

Ickod»itUrcalkn>d„o.,aUgn.ml.W--d 

oIs«dtl,a.ho..a,od"mtUmo^uudm»- 

Latrod  ovory  O'Oorraan,  doad.l.v,..'  or  ,ot 

::J   <  patroLingV  ad„.Utod  «,at  aUo  wa, 

I  ,  a  t  vicious  of  ti>o  na,no.    After  aw  d  , 

1   „mn«od  bv  her  wild,  ^m^\^i\f 
Jolm  socmcd  amusca   uy   n 
,vays  aud  even  Mammy  Honoy  asked  for  Uttlo 
It     'tions  at  her  hand,  and    addressed   her 
^;:;;y,as,"Nanny,mycUUd;;a^^^^^^^ 
ified  by  Peggy's  forbearance  with  her. 


m. 


liiliitiiiirr^' 


$ 


U' 


standard 
od  her  by 

iin. 

08  for  the 
a,  and  she 
abling  and 
nnon,  who 
t  unclirist- 
ivin'  or  yet 
at  she  was 
I'tcr  awhile, 
d,  sprightly 
cd  for  little 
Irossod   her 
id  was  grat- 
ler. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

PADDY  MANNON. 

THE  harvest  was  gathered  in,  or  "  stacked,** 
and  immense  heaps  of  peat  in  the  yard  pro- 
mised light  and  warmth  for  the  coming  winter. 
The  heavy  work  of  the  farm  being  over,  Paddy 
Mannon  was  at  \Umty  to  attend  "  fairs  "  and 
races,  and  to  multo  his  annual  visit  to  his 
wife,  "  a  most  ondnstrious  young  woman,  who 
provided  for  herself  and  cliild  intirely  by 
begging,  and  never  bothered  him  at  all  no 
more  nor  if  he  war  a  young  b'y  without  ft 
wife."  ' 

Meg  Mannon's  home  was  a  dilapidated  hut 
on  the  roadside,  many  miles  from  Killyrooke. 
She  had  a  field  of  operation  too  productive  to 
leave  even  for  a  husband.  Mammy  Honey  had 
otforod  her  work  when  she  was  first  married, 
but  sUe  declined  it,  saying,  "  I  was  brought  up 


40 


OEMS  OF  THE  BOO. 


a  beggar,  misthress,  and  I  understand  my  oon 
business  better  tban  another  one's.  ♦  Let  tbo 
Bbocmaker  stick  to  bis  last.'  I'll  j"8t  bide 
where  I  am,  and  visit  Paddy  at  whiles  o' 
leisure."  .        •     ;  -      •, 

•Meg's  home- was  not  as  good  as  a  thrifty  far- 
mcr'8°cow-house.    A  woolen  coverlet,  the  gift 
of  Mammy  Honey,  supplied  the  missing  door. 
A  barrel,  sawn  asunder,  served  for  chairs,  and 
a  whole  one,  with  a  rough  board  across  it,  for 
a  table.    A  sack,  filled  with  straw  and  covered 
with  plenty  of  warm  blankets,  composed  a  bed 
seldom  visited  by  care  for  the  morrow.    The 
walls,  t)irough  which  the  light  peeped,  were 
ornamented  by  pictures ;  one  of  the  Virgin  and 
Holy  Child,  another  representing  the   benevo- 
lent   St.    Patrick    banishing     serpents   from 
Ireland,  and  a  third,  portraying  a  fat  monk, 
bareheaded  and  barefooted,  beating,  most  un- 
mercifully, some  half-dozen  sinners,  whof    race 

and  sex  must  remain  forever  a  mystery.         - 

Meg  Mannou  was  a  fine  specimen  of  a 
prosperous  1  rish  beggar,  and  was,  on  the  whole, 
a  proud  and  happy  woman,  having  nothing 


<c- 


PADDY  MANNOHf. 


41 


nd  my  oon 

*Let  the 

I   just  bido 

;    whiles  o' 

,  thrifty  far- 
rlet,  the  gift 
lissing  door. 

chairs,  and 
icross  it,  for 

and  covered 
mposed  a  bed 
lorrow.    The 
peeped,  were 
10  Virgin  and 
;  the  benovo- 
erpents   from 
;  a  fat  monk, 
ting,  most  un- 
rs,  whof    race 
(lystery. 
pocimeu  of   a 
I,  on  tlie  whole, 
laviug  nothing 


to  do  but  to  walk  from  parish  to  parish,  fol« 
lowed  by  little  Pat,  and  receive  the  gifts  of 
those  who  "  owed  her  a  livhig."  She  carried 
hur  treasures  all  with  her,  and  so  had  no  keys 
to  turn  and  no  robbers  to  fear.  To  add  to  her 
happiness,  Peggy  always  sent  her  a  little  sup- 
ply of  luxuries  by  Paddy,  and  Mammy  Honey 
never  forgot  warm  stockings  for  her  boy. 
Paddy  presented  her  with  a  bright  calico  gown 
once  a  year,  and  took  her,  arrayed  in  it,  to  a 
"  fair."  Meg  never  felt  any  degradation  from 
her  business,  but  on  the  contrary  was  proud  and 
boastful,  saying  that  she  was  young  and  strong, 
and  coula  walk  on  a  wager  with  any  woman  in 
Ireland,  and  had  "  the  lovingest  husband  and 
the  rosiest  child  "  in  it ;  and  then  asked,  **  Is 
it  any  wonder  that  Pm  a  contiut  and  happy 
woman  ?  " 

Two  or  three  times  a  year,  her  business 
arrangements  brought  her  to  Killyrooke, 
whither,  as  tlie  way  was  long,  she  bore  little 
Pat  on  ner  back.  At  these  times  she  was 
allowed  to  "keep  house"  for  a  week  in  an 
old  cow-shed  of  "  Masther  Sheehan,"  on  coa- 


iiildiiMikttM 


42 


OEMS  OF  THE  BOO. 


dition  that  no  fire  was  lighted    and  no  pipe 
smoked  within  five  rods  of  it.     And  with  such 
a  life  Meg  was  satisfied,  and  looked  no   more 
into  tlie  realities  of  the  future  than  if  she  had 
not  been  an  immortal  being.    She  paid  her  fees 
to  tlie  church,  went  to  mass  wheu  she  had  any 
thing  new  to  exhibit,  and  confessed  her  sins 
once  a  year  to  secure  a  christian  burial.     After 
that  she  was  easy,  throwing   all   responsibility 
on  the  priest.    Nor  was  Meg  alone  in  this; 
with  the  same  stupidity  does  Rome   curse  all 
her  lowly  children.     She  blindfolds  them,  that 
they  do  not  see  the  light ;  and  those  of  a  ptirer 
faith  look   on   and   cry,  "The   bandages  can 
never  be  removed  from  their  eyes."     But  few, 
alas,  take  hold  with  vigorous  hand  to  tr    what 
can  be  done.     While,  however,  the  mass  of  the 
people   in  that  corrupt  church   are  at  ease  in 
their  bonds,  there  are  some  there  struggling 
in  their  fetters,  and  reaching  out  for  the  light 

of  life. 

Paddy  and  Meg  had  one  only  ambition  unful- 
filled —  it  was  to  go  to  America,  where  they 
fancied  boggars  laid  up  fortunes  and  lived  in 


w*i.«0>iia 


jite'Tii  /  ^'' ■'•■'"■■*  —-«>.. 


f-. 


PADDY  MANNON. 


m 


and  no  pipe 
id  with  such 
cd  no  more 
,11  if  she  had 
paid  her  fees 
she  had  any 
icd  her  sins 
mrial.    After 
responsibility 
lone  in  this; 
»me   curse  all 
da  them,  that 
aso  of  a  purer 
bandages  can 
s."    But  few, 
id  to  tr    what 
lie  mass  of  the 
are  at  ease  in 
ere  struggling 
it  for  the  light 

irabition  unful- 
;a,  where  they 
ss  and  lived  in 


fine  stone  houses.    They  wore  always  planning 
a  fund  to  pay  their  passage.  Tlie  first  farthing, 
however,    had   never   been  laid   aside   for  it, 
although  Paddy  talked  of  the  "  passage-money  " 
as  if  it  were  all  ready  in  the  bank,  waiting  to 
be  called  for.     He  enjoyed  the  dream  of  future 
grandeur  more  than  most  men  do  the   reality ; 
and  neither  toil,  poverty,  nor  yet  separation 
from  those  he  loved,  had  power  to  dim  the  sun- 
shine in  his  light  heart.    He  had  as  little  care 
for  the  morrow  as  the  birds  of  the  air  or  the 
lilies  of  the  field.     But  this  was  not  the  rcsiilt 
of  faith  ;  for,  after  all  the  labor  dear  Mammy 
Honey  had  expended  on  him  from  childhood 
up,  Bhe  was  forced  to  confess  at  last  that  "  poor, 
foolish  Paddy  lived  like  the  beast  o'  the  field, 
forgetting  that  there  was  a  God  above  him." 

When  this  saint-like  old  woman  lay  on  her 
bed  and  felt  that  her  work  for  souls  was  nearly 
done,  she  called  Paddy  to  her  and  recounted 
the  mercies  of  God  to  him  during  the  long 
years  he  had  dwelt  under  her  roof,  begging 
him  to  be  wise  and  repent  while  it  was  called 
to-day,  lost  he  should  be  cut  ofiT  in  his  sins. 


MtMHi 


Mial* 


44  OEMS  OF  THE  BOG. 

«*  Whist,  noo,  misthrcss    dear,"  lio  replied; 
»♦  it  will  do  for  yc,  wlioso  time  is  ycr  own,  to  be 
rcadin'  and  prayiu'    l.Mf   ycr  daylight.     The 
likes  o'  me  has  to  do   it  all  up  of  a   Sunday. 
When  I  puts  on  a  clano  shiit  and  shaves  me, 
then  I  says  my  prayers  as  well   as  the   best  o' 
thim      Noo,  dear,  there's  scores  o'  boys  about 
here  that  tells  their  beads  twice  a  day,  and  yet 
them  same  will  swc  ar,   and  drink,  and   steal, 
and  lio.    And  ycisilf  knows  that  poor  Paddy, 
that  prays  only  of  a  S.uiday,  is  as  sober,  and 
honest,  and  loving  as  the  daylight  abooveus. 
Noo  what  better  would  I  bo  if  I  was  confissn.g 
to  the  priest  and  muttorin'  over  the  beads  half 

my  time  ?  " 

«  Paddy,  Paddy,  my  poor  lad  !  it's  not  con- 
fessing to  man,  nor  yet  counting  yer  beads  that 
will  save  yer  soul.    What  will  ye  do  when 

death  comes  ?  " 

"Och,  dear  heart,  fAm  Pll  pray  as  fast  as 
any  o'  thitr !  I  always  dae»  whin  Pm  ia 
trouble.  Don't  ye  mind  the  night  my  ould 
granny  died  at  the  workhouse,  how  I  prayed? 
I  had  the  beads  in  my  hand  all  night,  and  if 


I 


*- 


PADDY  ilANNOW. 


4fi 


ho  replied; 
cr  own,  to  be 
lylight.  The 
}f  a  Sunday, 
d  shaves  me, 
18  the  best  o' 

o'  boys  about 
k  day,  and  yet 
ik,  and  steal, 
t  poor  Paddy, 

as  sober,  and 
ight  abooveus. 
was  confissing 

the  beads  half 

!  it's  not  con- 
'  yer  beads  that 
ill  ye  do  when 

pray  as  fast  as 

>i  whin  I'm  in 

night  my  ould 

I,  how  I  prayed? 

all  night,  and  if 


I'd  bo  to  fall  asleep  for  a  minute,  sure  I'd 
Bprin",'  up  and  go  at  it  agaiu,  fear  her  ghost 
wouM  ooine  to  mo  I  " 

Munuuy  Uonoy  groaned.  "  Oli,  Paddy,  it's 
iiigii  quartcs*  a  ceut'ry  since  I  took  yo  in  hand, 
and  tliis  is  all  I've  accomplished  for  ye  !  Sure 
I'm  aithcr  a  blind  lader  o'  the  blind,  or  a 
most  unprofitablo  sarvant !  " 

"  Och,  no,  Misthrcss  Honey,  ye're  nather  o* 
them ;  the  fault  o'  ray  not  hcediu'  yer  religica 
is  on  the  head  o'  his  rirorence,  for  he  watches 
mc  as  the  cat  watches  the  mouse,  and  tells  me 
if  I'm  a  *  turn-coat,'  that  the  ghosts  o'  all  my 
Catholic  anchesfcers  will  como  down  upon  me 
niid  tear  me  to  piepes,  and  I'll  lose  my  soul 
then  —  sure !  " 

"  t'addy,  my  poor  man,"  replied  his  mis- 
tress, "yo  are  fast  in  the  net  o'  Satan,  and 
how  can  I  die  and  leave  yo  there  ?  " 

"  Don't  tell  mo  that;  I'll  be  'feared  to  go  to 
my  bed  alono  for  a  month ;  for  I'm  e'en  more 
scared  o'  yon  Satan,  nor  o'  the  ghosts  th:m- 
selves !    But  keep  yo  aisy,  dear  heart,  for  I've 


411  GEMS  OF  THE  bOO. 

no  doubt  I'll  get  into  hcave.i  some  tvay.    Kins 
riverencoischatingmcrilbolotinforyer 

sake  Yc've  done  good  enough  to  get  yer- 
silf  and  Ma.lher  John,  and  mesilf  all  safo 
through;  and  as  for  the  young  mistiness - 
there  could  be  no  excuse  for  keeping  her  out 
at  all,  at  all;  for  she's  as  hooly  now  as  any  lu 

'''such  were  the  low  ideas  Paddy  entertained 
of    heaven  and  the  way  of  life,  after  all  the 
efforts  which  had  been  made  to  enlighten  las 
darkness.     Nor  was  his   a  solitary   case;   he 
was  surrounded  by  men  and  women  who  lived 
as  they  listed,  a,.d  who  trusted  for  eternal  hap- 
piness to  their  good  works-a  poor  array 
L,andinthe.-.orsoftho  saints  and    he 

Virgin,  while  they  were  as  ignorant  of  the  plan 
of  salvation  as  are  the  far-off  heathen 

"Oh    Paddy,"  said  his  mistress,  "I  could 
lay   down   my  life   for'  the  salvatio.i  o'  poor 
blind  Killyrooke,  includin'  John  and  yers.lf! 
But  that  wouldn't  save  ye.    Ye  must  repent  o 
yer  Bias  and  believe  iu  the  Lord  Jesus  for  yor- 


PADDY  MANNON. 


47 


ivay.  K  Ins 
ot  in  for  yer 
to  get  yer- 
silf  all  safo 
inisthiess  — 
sping  lior  out 
low  as  any  in 

y  entertained 
after  all  the 
enlighten  hia 
ary  case ;  he 
acn  who  lived 
)r  eternal  hap- 
-  a  poor  array 
laints  and  the 
ant  of  the  plan 
icathcn. 
ress,  "  I  could 
iratiou  o'   poor, 
»n  and  yorsilf. 
must  repent  o' 
i  Jesus  for  yor* 


selves.  I  can  no  more  do  it  for  you  than  the 
priest,  for  I'm  a  poor  sinner,  like  himself  and 
ye." 

"Well,  dear,"  replied  Paddy,  a  little 
piqued;  "  as  to  bein' such  a.  fearful  sinner  — 
ivory  one  must  spake  for  hisself  —  and  I'm 
just  sure  Fm  not  quite  evil  yet.  Lookin'  at 
mysilf  beside  the  other  boys,  I'm  a  raal  da- 
ccut-bchaved  lad,  and  dosarve  as  respictablo  a 
funeral  as  ony  o'  thim  —  yis,  and  respictablor 
too ! "  This  last  sentence  was  uttered  with 
some  sharpness,  as  if  his  funeral  arrangements 
were  being  then  made,  and  did  not  meet  his 
approbation.  But  suddenly  remembering  that 
in  this  one  item  of  c.vpondituro,  if  in  no  other, 
he  was  independent  of  his  master,  he  added, 
with  a  smart  toss  of  the  head,  "  I  desarves  a 
fine  wake  and  a  funeral,  and  I'll  get  them  too ; 
fur  Meg  and  me  has  made  a  promish  together, 
that  whichever  of  the  twos  dies  first  shall  be 
buried  fine,  if  it  takes  the  livin'  one  the  rest  o' 
her  days  to  pay  for  it !  Then  ye  think,  mis- 
thress,  that  not  a  Catholic  body  will  be  let  in 


i 


:j! 


i 


48 


GEMS  OF  THE  BOO. 

to  heaven  at  ail  ?"  be  added,  returning  to  the 

first  subject.  ,   „  •'  t  he- 

u  No,  Paddy,  I  think   no  such  thuig.     I  be 
lavo   if  ever   my   eyes  see  'the  King  mH.s 

beauty,'  I   sbuU   see   beside  him  poor  Demm 
Burke,  who  bore  his  sufferings  so  patient,  and 

blissed  God  in  the  furnace,  and  d.ed  w.th  the 
1.0  0'  Jesus  on  hi.  lips.  In  a  dar  place 
Dennis  had  spied  a  great  light,  a  u    made  after 

U,  and  walked  in  it.  But  the  cloud  was  bo 
tbick  about  him  he  did  not  see  how  to  g  t 
clear  out  o'  the  Romish  church  on  earth. 
But  he's  all  right  now,  where  the  name  o  a 
church  is  o'  no  avail,  but  where  Jesus  has 
,aved  all  who  trusted  in  Him,  from  the  errors 

and  blindness  of  arth.      And  more    ban  ould 
Dennis  is  safe  in  Christ,  while  hav^n'  a  name 

in  yor  church.     There's  good  Mammy  Crogm 

e      ,««  liat  fall ;  the  two  o'  us  had 
that  spun  for  mo  last  tail ,  ,    , 

iast  a  little  heaven  together  a  talkin   o  the 
ove  0' God,  and  a  wishin  new  days  for  poor 

L-eland.     And  some  o' the  hoHest  of  men  Uved 

aud  died  in  the  Catholic  church." 


i... 


PADDY  MANN  ON. 


49 


rning  to  the 

tiling.     I  be- 
King  i»  His 
poor  Dennis 
,  patient,  and 
died  with  the 
a  dark  place 
id  made  after 
cloud  was  so 
00  how  to  got 
rch   on  earth, 
the  namo  o'  a 
iiore  Jesus  has 
'rom  the  errors 
more  than  ould 
havin'  a  name 
Mammy  Crogin, 
w  two  o'  us  had 
a  talkin'  o'  the 
«?  days  for  poor 
lest  of  mea  lived 
!h." 


"Och,  then,  sure  Fm  safe  in  it!"  cried 
Paddy,  quite  relieved  to  find  his  mistress  had 
sympathy  with  any  of  his  faith. 

"  Oil,  uo,  for  ye  are  not  like  them  ones, 
Paddy.  They  saw  the  errors  of  Rome,  though 
tlioy  saw  not  the  way  of  deliverance  from  her, 
but  came  themselves  into  the  gospel  road,  the 
only  one  that  can  lade  us  to  God.  Even  the 
pope  hasn't  power  to  bar  the  way  from  his 
children,  if  they  seek  it  with  a  true  heart.  But 
go  now  to  yer  work,  lad.  I  can  only  pray  for 
ye  and  yer  masther,  as  I  have  iver  done,  that 
ye  may  bo  drawn  by  an  iverlasting  love ;  for 
yo  will  never  como  o'  yerselves ;  John  is  too 
wise  in  his  own  eyes  to  take  a  guide,  and  ye 
are  too  ignorant  to  know  yer  need  o*  one ! 
Heaven  help  yo  both,  poor  lads  !  "     . 

This  old  saint  seemed  one  born  out  of  place 
and  out  of  season  ;  one  who,  had  she  been 
placed  with  hands  unfettered,  whore  she  had 
helpers,  would  have  done  a  mighty  work 
among  the  lowly.  She  was  a  Bible  saint,  hav- 
ing as  her  only  other  books,  Pilgrim's  Pro- 
gress, Boston's  Fourfold  State,  and  Baxter's 


tdSHJuiittmmniik  - 


50  OEMS  OF  THE  BOO. 

Sainis'  Rest.  She  had  none  of  tlio  appManccs 
of  our  day  a.id  our  land,  wUerewith  to  bring 
the  truth  before  men.  No  books,  no  tracts,  no 
prayer-raeetuigs ;  but,  for  all  this,  she  kept  tho 
enemy  at  bay  in  her  own  hamlet,  and  foiled 
bis  efforts  many  a  time  at  Cloynmally. 


*«•■ 


appMaiiccs 
h  to  bring 
[)  tracts,  no 
lio  kept  tho 
,  and  foiled 
lly. 


i  ,> 


.■>S,fiU??'J.v., 


:  ,>:.?«*: 


•■^■'r'r'"'-f' :!r';:i:^f^'' 


CHAPTER  V.  - 

A  CLOUD  OVER  DAISY  FARM. 

WHEN  the  autumn  winds  brought  the  sere 
leaves  from  the  branches,  the  strong 
staff  and  tho  beautiful  rod  on  which  tho  honor 
of  tho  Sheehans  had  leaned  so  long  was  bro- 
ken. Tho  setting  of  Mammy  Honey's  sun  was 
nmrked  by  a  brilliancy  and  beauty  surpassing 
even  that  of  her  pure  and  glowing  overy-day 
life.  Tlje  peace  of  heaven  shone  through  her 
clear  eyes,  and  her  brow,  long  deeply  lined, 
grew  smooth  and  fair  like  that  of  a  child, 
llcr  blanched  locks  fell  from  beneath  the 
broad  frill  of  her  cap  in  waves  of  silver,  as 
she  sat  pillowed  in  her  rudo  easy  chair  before 
tlio  little  glass  window.  Her  soul  had  seemed 
for  days  floating  on  a  sea  of  peace.  No  fear 
of  death,  no  desire  for  life  cast  a  sliadow  over 

SI 


*-•■ 


0t 


GEMS  OF  THE  BOG. 


her  joy.  Her  voice,  long  unstrung,  had  re- 
gained its  old  melody,  and  she  cheered  hor 
heart  with  hymns  and  snatches  of  the  Psalins  as 
paraphrased  for  the  Scottish  church.  Her  chil- 
dren, while  they  moved  about  their  toil,  heard 
her  singing,  as  she  iieared  the  cold  river, — 


••  The  hour  of  my  departure's  come, 
I  hear  the  voice  that  calls  me  home  5 
And  now,  0  Lord,  let  sorrow  cease. 
And  let  Thy  servant  die  in  peace  ! " 


\i 


Yet  if  the  Holy  One  felt  the  tempter's  power 
in  His  mortal  conflict,  is  it  strange  that  some 
of  His  followers  arc  forced  to  cry  with  Him, 
«»This  is  the  hour  and  the  power  of  dark- 
ness"?   Is  it  not  enough   that  the  disciple 
be  as  his  Master  ;  that  the  same  thorns  pierce 
his  feet ;  that  the  same  spear  wound  his  heart ; 
and  that  the  same  vinegar,  mingled  with  gall, 
bo  put  to  his  lips  ?    Blessed  bo  fellowship  with 
Jesus,  oven  though  it  bo  the  fellowship  of 

Buffering! 

Need  wo,  then,  wonder  that  a  transient  cloud 
shadowed  the  peace  of  this  blessed  old  saint  1 


ill 


ig,  had  re- 
lieercd  l»or 
e  Psalins  as 
.  Her  cliil- 
■  toil,  heard 
Id  river, — 


e ; 


ptor's  power 
0  that  some 
y  with  Him, 
rcr  of  dark- 
the  disciple 
horns  pierce 
id  his  heart ; 
3d  with  gall, 
ilowship  with 
ellowship  of 

ansient  cloud 
id  old  saiut  ? 


A  CLOUD  OVER  DAISY  FARM.  63 

It  disturbed  her  vision  of  her  children's 
future  and  her  hopes  of  Ireland,  leaving  her 
own  prospects  still  glorious.  Wliat  true 
motlier  can  bo  satisfied  with  heaven  for  her- 
self alone  ?  Mammy  Honey  was  going  to  her 
Fatlier's  kingdom  ;  but  she  wanted  Jolin,  and 
Paddy,  and  all  Ireland,  and  indeed,  the  whole 
world,  to  follow  her  there.  For  Peggy  she 
had  no  fears,  as  she  said,  "  Heaven  would  not 
be  complate  without  her." 

"  Mavourneen,"  she  called  to  Peggy,  on 
the  last  day  of  her  life,  "  come  now  and  let 
me  lane  my  head  on  yer  lovin'  bussum.  Call 
Johjj,  too,  darlin',  for  this  is  tlie  wakeness  o' 
failin'  natur' !  I'm  just  now  puttin'  foot  into 
the  cold  waters,  but  I  see  the  horses  and  the 
chariots  waitin'  me  beyond  ;  so  I  know  that  I 
sliall  sup  ere  break  o'  day  with  Him  I'm  sick 
o'  heart  to  see !  True,  the  arrow  is  in  my 
breast ;  but  like  Christiana's  token,  it  is  pintod 
with  love.  I  hears  the  bells  beginnin'  to  ring 
in  heaven,  rejoicin'  over  another  poor  sinner 
come  oiT  conqueror  through  grace.  But  I've 
a  partin'  word  on  the  bank  of  Jordan  for  ye 


1 


1 


04 


GEMS  OF  THE  BOO. 


twos  — my  dailins'.  I  would  be  to  warn  yc 
that  the  diviVa  not  dead,  but  still  goes  roariu' 
about ;  and  if  ivcr  lie  strives  to  damage  yo, 
it'll  bo  by  putting  a  space  between  yer  two 
hearts !  I've  no  fears  o'  yo'  Peggy,  my  jewel, 
for  ye  have  even  now  the  meek  and  lowly 
sperit  o'  the  lovin'  Master.  But  Oh,  John, 
John  !  ye  are  all  taken  up  with  the  grain, 
and  the  peat,  and  the  pratecs,  and  the  dedr 
bastes,  and  the  powltry  !  I'm  afeared  ye'U  let 
the  very  mercies  o'  God  lade  ye  astray  from 
Him  till  ye  lose  yer  soul!  Peggy,  love, 
watch  him  every  hour  and  keep  a  fast  hould 
on  him,  and  bring  him  safe  to  mo  at  last! 
Til  expect  that  o'  ye,  darUrC.  And  now  I'd  bo 
to  give  my  partin'  orders.  I  had  a  vision, 
dears,  days  agone,  that  drank  up  my  sperit 
with  anguish  ;  and  I  must  tell  it  ye  afore  tho 
trumpet  sounds  for  me,  that  I  may  put  yo  on 
yer  guard." 

"  No  evil  can  come  on  this  house  while  the 
thatch  hangs  to  the  rufT,  Mammy,"  sobbed 
Peggy  ;  "  there's  been  that  many  prayers  sent 
to  Heaven  from  it !  "  •  ».     ■        v 


C 


A  CLOUD  OVER  DAISY  PARM. 


55 


;o  warn  yc 
)es  roariu* 
I  am  age  yo, 
!u  yer  two 
,  my  jewel, 

and   lowly 
;  Oil,  John, 

the  grain, 
id  the  dedr 
ed  ye'll  let 
astray  from 
'eggy,  love, 
I  fast  lionld 
mo  at  last! 

now  I'd  bo 
id  a  vision, 
p  my  sporit 
<fQ  afore  the 
ly  put  yo  on 

ise  while  the 
my,"  sobbed 
prayers  sent 


"  Peggy,  the  righteousness  of  the  father  will 
niver  avail  for  the  son !  John  must  make  no 
trust  in  that,  or  he  will  lose  his  soul.  I  fear, 
I  fear  he  is  dead  while  he  has  a  name  to  live  ! 
But  now  ahoot  yon  vision  :  I  had  the  wakeness 
in  mo.  head  for  a  bit,  and  then  I  saw  crawlin' 
slowly  over  the  floor  o'  the  kitchen  a  sarpint ! 
Betimes  it  sprung  up  and  thrust  its  pizen  tooth 
into  Peggy's  heart  o'  love!  And  worse  nor 
all,  John,  I  thought  ye  looked  on  and  niver 
lifted  a  hand  to  give  ifc  a  blow.  Then  it 
turned  to  go,  and  I  saw  it  had  a  human  face, — 
shall  I  tell  ye  ?  —  the  face  o'  the  O'Gorman 
gerl !  Me  heart  died  within  me,  and  I  hadn't 
the  power  left  in  mo  to  scream  out  to  ye. 
But  I  tiiought  Paddy  Mannon  —  poor,  foolish, 
lovin'  Paddy  —  struck  it  a  blow  with  his  huge 
fist  and  killed  it  entirely."  ,     ..   I 

"  It  war  only  a  drame,  darlin,'  and  no  vision 
at  all,"  cried  Peggy,  trembling  and  turning 
pale.  "John's  all  love  and  full  o'  care  o' 
me!" 

"  Do  ye  think,"  said  John,  "  that  yer  son 
would  ivcr  stand  by  and  see  the  light  o'  his 


:;l 


4 


56  GEMS  OF  TEE  BOG.        • 

eyes  touched  by  a  sarpint  or  ony  other  onholy 

thing?    Indadeno!    There's  nather  mau  nor 

thing  in  all  Killyrooke  would  dare  give  her  au 
oncivil  word;   for  betwane  Paddy  and  me. 

Wdsoou    make  an  eend    o'   1"«^'-      Y*3ie 
throubled  now,  dear  ;  sthrive  to  rest  a  bit. 

u  There's  a  long  rest  ju^f  beyont  for  me 
John;    Imustgivemylastbreathtoyeand 

Peg.y  in  counsel.    Now  promise  me,  ye  son  o 
af;o;iyman,thatye'llgonomoreacrossto 

the  O'Gormans',  as  I've  seen  ye  dom  o  lute. 
There's  too  much  whisky  and  too  many  evd 
.ords  there.    Ye  cannot  walk  into  the  fire 

Tvithout  bein'  burned,  lad." 

«It's  only  the  prattle  o'   the  clnlder  that 

takes  me  there  at  all,  mammy,"  replied  John . 
"  Jt'8  SO  lone  and  sUent  here  !  "  ^ ' 

.  And  aren't   silence  better  nor  brawlm , 

,,anr' asked  the  mother.    ""G^^^-^^"* 
no  childer  to  comfort  ye,  thank  mm  He  s  sent 

none  to  break  yer  hearts.     And^«;^  y^2 
,ordB,John;  don't  ye  flyin  the  face  oh 

Almighty,  for  if  ye  do  ye'U  be  sorely  baten 
t  the  contist.    Send   Nanny-Heaven  pty 


.*iss«»aBa»«-' 


A  CLOUD  OVER  DAISY  FARM 


67 


p  onholy 
mau  nor 
ve  hor  aa 
id  mcsilf 
I      Ye're 
I  bit." 
t  for  mo, 
to  yc  and 
,  yo  BOii  o' 

across  to 
>iu'  o'  late. 

many  evil 
to   the  firo 

liilder  that 
)Ued  John. 

)r  bravrlin', 
od  has  sent 
m  He's  sent 
heed  ye  my 
I  face  o'  tlie 
sorely  baten 
Heaven  pity 


tlie  child  —  home  when  I'm  gone,  and  live  ? 
yersilvcs  like  two  tartlc-doves  till  I  see  yo 
ajfain." 

For  a  little  time  Mammy  Honey  lay  as  if 
done  with  all  below.  Tlicn  slje  cried  out.  "  Oh, 
that  God  would  pity  Ireland,  —  poor,  swate 
Ireland,  bound  in  ciiains  and  darkness!  The 
men  of  God  go  to  the  far-off  hathen,  to  the 
black  man  and  the  red  man ;  but  who  o'  them 
all  pities  my  people,  ground  under  the  heel  o' 
the  Man  o'  Sin  !  How  can  I  die  and  leave 
them  thus  !  "  Then  a  smile  passed  over  her 
pale  face,  and  she  whispered,  "  When  the  isles 
of  the  sea  shall  be  converted  unto  Thee,  the 
dearest  and  the  greenest  o'  them  all  shall  not  be 
forgotten!  Good  night,  jewels."  And  she 
was  not,  for  God  had  taken  her.       >  *     *  ..1,1. 

When  the  form  of  Mammy  Honey  was  borne 
from  the  cottage  to  the  little  Presbyterian 
church  in  Cloynmally,  all  Killyrooke  followed 
it.  Many  who  had  never  entered  a  Protestant 
church  before  stole  in  there ;  and  such  as 
dared  not  enter  lest  they  might  thereby  lose 
their    souls,   stood    without;    wringing    their 


.J 


<- 


58 


OEifS  OF  THE  BOO. 


hands,  and  howling  out  lamentations  for  her 
who  had  "  left  a  huge  spot  impty,  and  earned 
the  heart  o'   KiUyrooko    to   the    grave   witii 

her!" 

When  the  coffin  had  been  lowered  into  the 
grave,  the  pastor  of  the  little  Hock  in  Cloyn- 
mally  seized  this  rare  opportunity  of  explaui- 
ing  to  the  poor  people  the  way  of  salvation 
through  Cluist  alone.     Ho  spoke  of  the  holy 
life  by  which  their  dead  friend  had  honored 
her  faitli  among  them,  and  through  which  she 
had  now  entered  into  rest.     While  ho  was  yet 
speaking,  a   simple    youth    from   KiUyrooke, 
known  there  by  no  other  name  than  « the  poor 
fool"   and  who  had  a   reputation  for  second 
sight,  mounted  the  wall,  and  uttered  a  succes- 
sion of  the  most  unearthly  howls,  till  every 
eye  was  turned  on  him.     "Oohoul!     Oohoul! 
Oohoul!     Bats,  and  owls  and  ravens;  the  air 
is  full  o'  'um!    Tljis  is  the  evil  day  for  Daisy 
Farm   and  the    Shechans!      I  seed  a  white 
dove  perched  on  the  coffin   o'  Mammy  Honey, 
and  it  followed  her  here ;  and  it'll  bide  on  her 
grave  whin  we's  are  gone  boom  ;  and  then  .t  U 


C- 


1 


for  her 

carried 

ivc   with 

into  tlie 
u  Cloy  11- 

explain- 
salvatioii 

the  lioly 

honored 
which  sho 
0  was  yet 
illyrooke, 
'  the  poor 
or  second 
.  a  siicces- 
till  every 
Oolionl ! 
s;  the  air 

for  Daisy 
i  a  white 
my  Honey, 
bide  on  tier 
id  then  it'll 


A  CLOUD  OVER  DAISY  FARM. 


59 


die  on  the  turf  above  her,  and  never  go  back 
more  to  hover  in  peace  over  tlio  cottage  !  But 
owls,  and  bats  and  ravens  will  bide  tiiero,  and 
clap  their  wings  and  hoot,  and  croak  through 
the  long  black  night  that  '11  never  be  lifted  off 
the  place ! " 

Tlicn  he  clapped  his  hands  and  laughed 
loud  and  long,  as  he  looked  up  to  the  heavens. 
"  Och,  ooh  !  "  he  cried,  "  but  this  same  is  the 
blessed  day  for  herself  that  fed  the  beggars, 
and  knit  warm  stockiu's  for  mesilf  these  nine 
years  agone !  She  shuk  off  her  heresy  like 
a  varmint  with  her  last  britlj,  and  bid  John 
to  tell  o't.  I  sees  her  now  passin'  through  the 
fires  o'  purgatory,  the  first  Sheohan  tliat  ever 
got  through  since  heaven  war  l)uilt.  And 
now,  look !  look  !  she's  let  in  among  the  hooly 
•the  only  Protestant  body  in  the  hape  !  " 
The  peojde  stood  as  if  turned  to  stone  hj 
the  ravings  of  the  idiot,  who  was  really  more 
knave  than  fool.  But  John,  whose  pride  was 
tonchod  by  this  reflection  on  his  family  and  his 
faitli,  forgot  the  decorum  incumbent  on  him  as 
a  mourner.    He  stepped  out  from  among  the 


60  GEMS  OF  THE  BOO. 

people,  and   cried,  "  Hoot,  there,  poor  crack- 
brain '     Go  Lome  and  tell  l.im  that  bid  ye  do 
this  onchristian  dado   to   broken  hearts,  that 
not  a  Sheehan  ever  lived  on  arth  -  mesdf  ex- 
cepted-bnt's  in  heaven  to  day!  and  tell  hiin 
that  whiles  I'm  the  rospictable  man  I  am,  na- 
ther  owls,  bats  nor  ravens  shall   get  lave   to 
bide  above  my  boom,  nor  yet  will  ye  ever  be 
fed  there  again.     Away  with  ye!" 

Poor  Peggy,  who  could  not  endure  an- 
cry  words,  foil  fainting  with  exhaustion  and 
fear.  Kind  won.cn  gathered  about  her,  say- 
ing "Well  may  she  sink  now,  poor  body. 
Her  bist  friend's  in  the  grave.  Did  ever  man's 
mother  get  love  like  this  from  his  wife!" 

What  hour  in  life  so  sad  as  the  evcnmg  after 
the  funeral  of  one  beloved?     John  arid  Peggy 
,ot  v^   the   deep   shadow   of    tho  broad   clay 
chimney-placo,  where  the   peat  was  sinoking 
and  smouldering,  but  neithor  spoke.     She  was 
nursing  her  grief,  he  laying  plans  to   punish 
the  poor  fool.     At  length  Nan  O'Gorman  rose 
from  the  little  casement  where  she  had  been 
Bitting  with  her  chin  resting  on  her  chubby 


^^^^j,t-*8t' Jf!«i*«*^«^'  ■■'^'^ 


A   CLOUD  OVER  DAISY  FARM. 


61 


or  crack" 
bid  yo  do 
aits,  that 
mcsilf  ex- 
i  tell  liiin 
I  am,  iia- 
3t  lave  to 
'6  ever  be 

nduro  an- 
ustion  and 
t  her,  say- 
poor  body! 

ever  rnau's 
ife ! " 
fcning  after 

and  Peggy 

broad  clay 
as  smoking 
e.  She  was 
s  to  punish 
Jorman  rose 
ihe  had  been 

her  chubby 


hands,  gazing  at  the  passers-by.  She  fell 
Mpon  her  knees  before  the  fire,  and  began 
blowing  the  peat  to  light  it.  A  sudden  gleam 
fell  across  her  face,  and  Peggy  cried  out, 
"  Quit  blowijig,  Nanny,  for  I  cannot  bear  ony 
light  on  my  eyes  this  night,  when  Mammy 
Honey  is  lying  in  the  dark,  cold  grave.  I  be- 
lieve WY  own  heart  lies  with  her,  for  I  feel  the 
damp  and  cold  o'  the  grftve  all  aboot  me ; " 
and  she  shuddered  fearfully. 

"It's  a  huge  cold  ye've  taken  standin'  so 
long  on  the  fresh-tarned  arth,  dear,"  said 
John.  Ho  rose  and  took  down  a  coarse  frieze 
cloak  from  the  peg  on  which  it  hung,  and  was 
wrapping  it  about  her,  when  she  cried,  "  O, 
John,  that  is  her  cloak !  How  can  ye  touch  it 
with  thoughtless  hands!"  And  burying  her 
face  in  its  folds,  she  kissed  it  again  and  again 
with  floods  of  tears.  «  Who'll  help  me  on  to 
heaven  now  ?  "  she  sobbed. 

"  Don't  be  breakin'  yer  heart  this  way,  jewel. 
Sure  you've  got  me  left,"  said  John  tenderly. 

Peggy  made  no  reply,  but  with  a  deep  groan, 
she  closed  her  eyes,  and  laid  her  pallid  cheek 


^  OEMS  OF  THE  BOG. 

against  the  cold  clay  chimney,  and  claBp'u.g 
hcrtals,  whispered,  "0,  God  of  Mammy 
Honey !  will  Ye  not  pity  her  child  ? " 

A  heavy  step  was  now  heard  on  the  door- 
stone,  and  a  merry  well-known  voice  cried  out, 
»  Safe  hoom  again  and  wilcome  to  ye,  Paddy 
Mannonl     and  that  gentleman,  with  a  bundle 
on  a  stick  over  his  shoulder,  leaped  in  with  a 
whoop  and  a  comical   grimace.     Ho  had  just 
returned  from  his  yearly  visit  to  Meg,  and  was 
wholly  ignorant   of   the  great  sorrow   at   the 
cottage,     ne  stepped  on  tip-toe  to  the  nmer 
door,  and  peeped  in,  hoping  to  c  eer  Mammy 
Houcy  with  the  sight  of  his  honest  face.    All 
was  quiet  there,  and  i.i  perfect  order.     Pac.ay 
turned  round,  and  seeing  Peggy's  ever  busy 
hands  folded  helplessly  on  her  lap,  the  truth 
burst  upon  his  mi.»d,  and  ho  cried  out,  "It's 
surely  not  dead  that  she  is ! " 

-Yis,  yis,  Paddy,  dead  and  alone  in  the 
churchyard;   and   why  didn't   God  let  mo  go 
with  her- when  the  heart  o'  mo  is  dead  too? 
cried    Peggy,    with    a  fresh    burst    of  tears. 
Paddy  dropped  the  stick  and  bundle,  and  fall- 


*n..i«ii**f*— ••"'•'"^  •* 


■^IPiiipiiiip 


jlaspnig 
Mammy 

\e  door- 
•ied  out, 
3,  Paddy 
a  bundle 
11  with  a 
had  just 

and  was 
7  at  the 
Lho  iimer 

Mammy 
face.  All 
•.  Pa(?.dy 
ever  busy 
the  truth 
out,  « It's 

ne  ill  the 
let  mo  go 
ead  too  ?  " 
;  of  tears, 
lo,  aud  fall' 


A   CLOUD  OVER  DAISY  FARM.  63 

ill-,'   down   botweon   John   and    Peggy   on   his 
kiieos,  covered  his  face   with  his  great  rough 
1  unds,  and  gave  way  also  to  a  flood  of  tears. 
Soon  ho  broke  out  into  a  wild  Irish  wail,  and 
chanted  the  praise  of  his  lost  mistress  in  a  sort 
of  rliyme,  for  whidi  ho  was  very  famous  in  the 
region,   often   being  sent    for   to  "  iiowl   out 
varses  "  over  tlie  dead  whose  relatives  were  no 
poets.  ,  lie  ran  over  her  history  and  I»or  vir- 
tues, from  her  childhood  till  tlie  day  she  took 
possession   of  him,  at  tlie  work-house.     As  a 
specimen  of  Paddy's  poetical  genius  we  will 
give  the  portion  of  the  wail  referring  to  him- 
self:  — 

"  And  from  the  workhouse  once  she  tuk 
Poor  Paddy  Mannon  —  that  was  luokl 
And  rarcd  him  up  a  gplindid  youth, 
Haped  full  o'  vartue  and  o'  truth  ; 
Until  he'd  be  to  marry  Mog, 
Who  —  rather  far  than  work  —  would  beg; 
She  tachcd  her  how  to  spin  and  knit. 
But  work  she  wouldn't,  not  a  bit! 
Auil  when  that  silver  mornin'  dawned 
On  which  my  little  Pat  WM  horned. 
She  filled  poor  Paddy's  heart  with  joy, 
By  askin'  God  to  bliss  the  boy. " 


64  OEMS  OF  THE  BOG. 

He  told  ofher  holy  life,  in  Which  She  "  fed 

bc-ars,   sought   after    peaee,   and  loved  her 
JLs  better  nor  herself;''  and  how    wheu 

utUc  old  mosthor"  was  taken  from  her  she 

u  thanked  God  .till  that  Himself  was  left  to 
1.0,;  "he  told  how  "She  walked  down  quite 

contmt  into  the  grave,  satisfied  that  .hod  find 
hlvenbeyont,"whieh,  he  added,"  she  d.d,  too 
and  is  there  to-night."     Eaeh  sentence  ended 
,ith  a  wild  howl  peculiar  to  himself,  winch 
no  one  could  imitate. 

This    duty  over,  poor,  thoughtless   Paddy 
seated  himself,  and  was  soon  doubly  comtorted 

by  a  bowl  of  bread  and  milk,  and  by  the 
announcement  that  Mammy  Honey  had  bo- 
qncathed  him  the  blue  deal  chest  ecn.tau.mg 

the  wardrobe  of  the  deceased  Daddy  bheehan 
.  och  '  but  I  wish  this  same  had  happened 
aforelwint;  Meg  would  ha'  been  that  proud 

to   go  with    me,  dressed  up  in    that  h on  s 

xnan's    Sunday    coat,  to    Blarney   Fan-,      he 

exclaimed.  „.. 

uO   Paddy,  Paddy!"   cried  Peggy,  mourn- 

fully, '"yo   surety  did  not    wish  her  sooner 


♦-• 


■■ 


A   CLOUD  OVER  DAIST  FARM. 


65 


she  "  fed 
oved   her 
3W,  wlieu 
i  her  she 
as  left  to 
3WU  quite 
she'd  find 
e  did,  too, 
3UC0  ended 
self,  which 

ess   Paddy 
r  comforted 
md  by  the 
ey  had   bo- 
,  containing 
dy  Siicchan. 
id  happened 
1  that  provid 
that  honest 
y   Fair,"    ho 

•cggy,  inouru- 
li  her  sooner 


gone  ?  Lave  yor  foolish  talking  now,  and  go 
10  bed  like  a  good  lad." 

"  To  bed  in  the  loft  is  it,  misthress  dear  ?  " 
cried  Paddy.  "  Sure  there's  not  gold  enough 
in  all  Ireland  to  timpt  me  up  there  alone. 
She'll  ),o  coming  back  oot  o'  her  grave  to 
watch  do  I  say  my  prayers.  'Deed,  I'll  sit 
in  this  cliair  till  the  marciful  daylight  comes, 
with  the  peat  fire  for  protiction."  Ho  started 
suddenly,  and  turned  towards  the  inner  door, 
which,  being  on  a  crack,  creaked  on  its  hinges. 
"  Och,  but  I  think  I  saw  hej'  there  now, 
shakin'  Iior  head  at  mo  for  the  small  drop  o' 
whisky  I  drank  witli  Mike  Troobrig  on  my 
way  homo  from  the  Fair.  Pra  that  scared  o' 
her  that  I'll  niver  touch  another  drop  while 
tlio  life's  in  mo!  I've  hoard  often  that  dead 
people  sees  ivery  thing  a  body  does,"  and  cast- 
ing another  cautious  glance  at  the  door,  he 
ciiod,  *'  Ilooly  Mother  Mary,  protict  me  !  " 

"  If  tho  blissod  saint  could  come  back  and 
sit  down  i  0  beside  us,  you  surely  would  not 
bo  nfearod  o'  her,"  said  Peggy.  "  When  she 
did   only  good  on  .this  sinful   arlli,  she'd  do 

0 


«e 


QEMS  OF  THE  BOG. 


no  evil  now  that  she's  seen  God  a.id  is  like 
Him     If  I  could  but  see  tho  shadow  of  her 
here,  my  poor  sick  heart  would  lape  up  for  joy. 
Butril  never,  never  see  her  more -unless, 
please  God,  I  grow  holy  enough  to  go  where 
she's  siugin'  to-night.     But  0,  John,  how  can 
she  sing  there  if  sl.e  knows  that  her  Peggy  8 
heart  is  breaking  down  here  ?    John,  John 
will  you  strive  to  help  me  on  and  to  seek  God 

yersclf  ?  " 

"Ay  will  I,  darlin',  and  ye'll  see  well  get 
on  well  in  tlio  way.  I'll  set  out  anew,  dear  ; 
I'll  give  two  pound  ton  — ' 

»  Cease  telling  what  ye'll  do,  and  think  on 
what's  been  done  for  ye,  darlin'.  Ye  never 
did  a  thing  in  yer  life  that  would  help  ye  on  to 
heaven.  What  is  our  poor  righteousness, 
John,toreeommindustoGod?  Let  us  not 
be    like    the  Papists,  to  trust    in    our   own 

deeds."  , 

Paddy  sat  with  his  beads  in  his  hand,  and 

nodded  in  the  chair  by  the  fire  all  night,  occa- 

Bionally  calling  out,  »  Are  you  there,  Masther 

John  1 "  and  being  assured  that  protection  was 


is  lilco 

of  her 
,  for  joy. 
-  unless, 
p  where 
how  can 

Peggy's 
n,  John, 
seek  God 

we'll  get 
BW,  dear ; 

think  on 
Ye  never 
p  ye  on  to 
teousness, 
Let  us  not 
our   own 

hand,  and 
light,  occa- 
•0,  Masthor 
itection  was 


1 

A   CLOUD  OVER  DAISY  FARM. 

67                   1 

at 

hand,   he   wonld   doze   again.     After 

that                 1 

Jol 

ni  iiirod  a  neighbor's  boy  to  sleep  with  him                  | 

" 

weeks  in  the  loft. 

-'.  ..-..     ■-  y\/'.  ,',i.>'  -•i^:-,v  ■■  -  I'/ry  y  'v:^'- " 

•t  "t' 

1 

1 

•  '-   '(':■     ■•■■■■:■■■■,'     ••  ;      ;,i-,;-':  /'lA    ■■■:"'■   ■•■.-    -;,  sij  ,''^,; 

r  ,'.■■ 

1 

'     .    -   ■'      :      ■    .■:•'   )vl-          ,,-^.\-ii/^-     '; 

1 

^1 

■■■^=.-;vff-V'::«'w.'.i..T'    ;'.;-  _  ,.  "..:.,:,;::,■,■   , 

1 

■■"   V   ;•  ■   ";5^-^i     .v.-.f      :^":''-          -■:■■--'      S^'Wi^/^ 

■ 

■A,H«''''>^^^-v-.:  .,■   -,%;:;  /-::,.-  ■,, .     ;:j„,.-.y.; ,  ;:; 

I 

i^'^'  =  :it:-y\  .n;r  •'    j-.r  ;,/;.•■  iUc^  •:.:  .>.C3 

I 

'•-:--.   .■^'^'t.V  ■>:,;.',;>,';■,;;,,;  ,v  ......■,■*   ■' ,,  . 

I 

'  ;  ■■;■  '  ■   ;;■;:-:'  ^r'^  '  y:rS-'"'--''  ■ 

1 

■■_    '■•                          *  ■     'f  „;•>.,„■.  ;:■>  ■-,      'i<    ■■';;,'«■,  .;?* 

^B 

■ 

I 

. :.,  ::: . -' : . ^.: ■„, a ;&. Sl. ..^.l-riiVi. , . JJ  is*  ' "j^f */'  .,„, . 

■ 

1 

...  ■;      ^         ■       «,#    v/      -■,■■■:  "'-:;■•■ '.'-.(f-^ 

♦•- 


( 


CHAPTER  VI. 

0ON!iTJCT  AND    VICTORY 

WHEN  the  cottage  was  again  restored  to 
its  old  order  and  quiet -that  order  a.id 
quiet  80  painful  to  a  bereaved  heart -Peggy 
had  "not  worlc  enough  to  keep  the  grief 
down  "  When  she  folded  her  hands  to  rest 
she  suffered  "such  a  hunger  after  the  blissed 

one  "that  she  grew  nearly  wild.  She  felt  a 
constant  impulse  to  run  to  Cloynmally  and  he 
down  on  the  grave;  and  her  prayer  was  no 

that  God  would  sanctify  her  bereavement,  but 
that  He  would  take  her  "  jist  now  and  without 
delay  to  Himself  and  to  the  darlin'  one.        ^ 

»  Come,  jewel,"  said  John,  one  day,  "ye  ve 
wept  the  full  0' a  bucket  o'  tears;  now  cheer 
up  and  see  if  ye  can't  fill  the  place  o'  Mammy 
Honey  in  Killyrooke.  Ye' ve  always  been  a 
great  sheep,"  Ue  added,  looking  at  her  proudly, 

68 


r?^^'"^i^-™',..^i^!F!-> 


CONFLICT  AND   VICTORY. 


69 


istorcd  to 
>rder  and 
;  — Peggy 
the    giicf 
,8  to  rest, 
he  blissed 
She  felt  a 
lly  and  lie 
ir  was  not 
omeiit,  but 
iid  without 
aue." 

Jay,  "  yo've 
now  cheer 
.  o'  Mammy 
ays  been  a 
tier  proudly, 


"  and  it  did  well  to  have  ye  so  when  there  was 
a  strong  mother  in  the  cottage  ;  but  now  that 
ye  are  the  mistress  o'  the  house,  ye  must  put 
on  a  brave  face  or  I'll  be  left  without  a  woman 

at  ail!"    ■-,■;;.•■:■;'  >.■--'", 

So  Peggy—  poor,  faithful  heart — set  out  in 
real  earnest  to  keep  her  sorrow  down,  that  she 
might  be  a  good,  obedient  and  cheerful  wife. 
Slie  now,  according  to  Mammy  Honey's  re- 
quest, called  Nannie  to  her  and  told  her  as 
gently  as  possible  that  she  had  no  further  need 
of  her  services,  and  soothed  her  disappoint- 
ment—for Nan  thought  herself   settled  for 
life  —  by  giving   her  a  little    silver    brooch 
which  Mammy  Honey  had  worn  in  her  maid- 
enhood.   «  Nannie,  child,"  she  said,  «'  remem- 
ber when  you  go  from  me  that  there's  a  God 
aboove    ye;    and    so    never   let   one  onpure 
thought  'bide  in  the  heart  that  beats  under 
Mammy  Honey's  brooch.    None  but  a  hooly 
heart  iver  yet  throbbed  beneath  it ;  and  only 
for  its  reminding  ye  o'  her,  and  so,  may  be, 
ladin'  ye  to  her  God,  makes  me  part  with  it 


■ms 


70 


OEMS  OF  THE  BOO. 


at  all."      And   she  kissed  the  little  pin   teii- 
doi'ly. 

Nan  grasped  the  trifle  eagerly,  expressed 
regret  that  there  was  not  a  red  stone  in  it, 
fastened  it  into  the  bosom  of  her  linsey-woolsey 
gown,  and  stepped  up  to  Peggy's  nine-by- 
twelve  looking-glass  to  admire  herself. 

Turning  her  head  this  way  and  that  to  get  a 
full  view  of  her  comeliness,  she  replied,  "  One 
thing  is  sure ;  if  ye  won't  keep  me  here  I'll  go 
over  to  Mike  Crogan's,  for  he  wants  a  bar- 
maid. Ho  says  my  red  cheeks  is  just  the 
things  to  draw  in  guests  o'  market  days,  and 
he'll  give  me  ten  shillings  a  year  more  nor  the 
last  one  had.  She's  destroyed  entirely  by  the 
small  pox,  ye  know." 

"  Don't  go  there,  Nannie.  It's  but  a  rough 
place  at  best,  and  what  with  fightin',  and 
pitchin'  coppers,  and  bettin'  on  donkeys  o' 
market  days,  it's  growiu'  to  be  a  curse  to  the 
town  it's  in.  Take  a  place  at  sarvice,  or  else 
'bide  at  home,  knitting  and  mending  for  the 
childor,"  said  Peggy. 


CONFUCT  AND   VICTORY. 


71 


pin  tcu- 

xpressed 

le  in  it, 

-woolsey 

nine-by- 

:  to  get  a 
d, "  One 
•e  I'll  go 
,s  a  bar- 
just  the 
lays,  and 
I  nor  the 
ly  by  the 

a  rough 
tin',  and 
lukeys  o' 
se  to  the 
e,  or  else 
I  for  the 


■ "  I'll  do  nather  one  nor  yet  the  other,"  re- 
plied Nan,  pertly,  "for  I'm  my  own  masther 
now.?' 

With  several  other  gifts  and  words  of  ad- 
vice, which  were  thrown  away  on  Nan,  Peggy 
parted  with  her  the  next  day,  and  saw  her  set 
off —  without  crossing  the  road  to  speak  to  her 
mother  —  for  Drougally,  where  Mike  Crogan 
kept  a  poor  inn  for  drovers,  under  the  style  of 
"  The  Bull's-horn's  Inn." 

Once  more  alone,  Peggy  sat  down  to  Mam- 
my Honey's  little  flax-wheel.  But  the  wheel 
caught  and  would  not  turn,  and  the  thread 
knotted  and  snarled  so  that  she  could  make 
no  progress.  Ah,  it  takes  a  happy,  or  at  least 
an  easy  heart,  to  do  effectually  the  lowliest 
work !  She  put  the  wheel  away  in  the  inner 
room  and  seated  herself,  knitting  in  hand. 
She  looked  around  the  kitchen  which  had  been 
for  years  so  like  a  palace  to  her  ;  but  now  the 
-laoky  rafters  frowned  on  her,  and  the  whole 
])laco  looked  poor,  empty  and  gloomy.  She 
glanced  wiihin  her  own  heart,  but  all  there 
was  blackness  and  darkness.    Dropping  her 


v^msmmmmm 


ft 


72 


GEMS  OF  THE  BOO. 


hands  helplessly  at  her  side,  she  cried,  »  Hif- 
enly  Father,  had  yo  no  pity  left  for  ycr  poor 
orphant  Peggy,  when  ye  took  the  blissed  Maiu- 
niy  Houey  away  where  ye  had  millions  more 
like  her,  and  left  the  world  without  a  one,  and 
my  heart  broke  in  two  pieces  ?  Sure,  ye  can 
nivcr  love  me,  or  yo  would  ha'  spared  me  this, 
by  takin'  me  along  with  her ! " 

Ajid  then  the  hitherto  patient  and  submis- 
sive woman  cherished  hard  thoughts  of  God, 
and    doubted    not    only   Uis  mercy  but    His 
power.     She  was  for  a  season   iu  the  hands 
of  the   tempter   and  loft  to  buffet  with   him 
alone.      Awful   thoughts,   of  which    she   had 
never    before   dreamed,  came   rushing   madly 
over  her  hitherto  placid  mind,  like  deafening 
torrents.     "  Perhaps,  lifter  all,"  she  thought, 
«  there  is   no  God  and  no  immortality.     Per- 
haps Mammy  Honey,  and  the  minister,  and  all 
the  church  have  been  deceived,  and  the  dear 
heart  has  slipped  out  of  life-like  her  own 
pet  lamb  that  died  in  the  spring  -  to  lie  snise- 
less  forever!"      The  bare  suspicion  against 
God  filled  her  soul  with  anguish ;  and  falling 


CONFLICT  AND   VICTOR T. 


73 


!cv  poor 
3(1  Maiu- 
iis  more 
DUO,  and 
,  yc  can 
mo  this, 

submis- 

of  God, 
but  His 
lie  hands 
Yith   hiin 

she  had 
ig  madly 
deafening 

tliought, 
ity.  Pcr- 
ir,  and  all 

the  dear 
5  her  own 
)  lie  sinse- 
in  against 
nd  falling 


on  her  knees  she  shrieked  out,  "  I'm  undone, 
undone !  I've  grieved  the  Holy  Spirit  by 
castiu  away  ray  confidence,  which  hath  great 
recompense  o'  reward ;  and  now  I've  lost  God 
as  well  as.  Mammy  Honey,  and  I'm  goiu' 
wild ! " 

Just  then  the  words  of  the  dying  saint  came 
to  mind,  "  Remember,  dears,  the  divil  is  not 
dead  yet ; "  and  she  realized  his  presence, 
tempting  her  to  curse  God  and  die,  and  trem- 
bled as  a  young  lamb  in  the  fangs  of  a  wolf. 
Waving  her  hand  bel  ind  her,  she  cried  out  in 
lier  agony, " '  Get  thee  behind  me,  Satan,'  for  I 
have  not  the  power  o'  Him  yo  trifled  with  and 
lied  to  on  the  mountain !  I  cannot  fast  forty 
days  and  forty  nights ;  Lord,  bind  him  hand 
and  foot,  that  he  do  not  destroy  me !  " 

J<jlin  was  repairing  ditches  a  little  way  from 
the  cottage,  and  hearing  Peggy's  cries,  went  in 
and  found  her  prostrate  on  the  cold  floor. 
"  Rise  up,  there,  darlin',"  he  said.  "  Do  ye 
pray  all  yer  time?  Why  can't  ye  let  the 
dear  jewel  rest  in  her  grave  now,  and  be 
aisy  ?  " 


C. 


p^ 


mm* 


74 


OEMS  OF  THE  BOG. 


"  Ocli,  John,  Mammy  Honey's  loss  is  a  small 
thing  now!  I've  got  a  linger  throul.lc  nor 
that  on  me  !  "  she  cried,  turning  her  palo  face 
up  to  him  imploringly. 

"What  on  arth  can  it  he?"  asked  John, 
running  to  the  door,  and  looking,  involun- 
tarily, toward  the  cow-house  and  the  sheep- 
fold,  where  his  treasures  w  r^  "Have  wo 
lost  any  body  else  ?  " 

"Yes,  John;  I've  lost  God!"  cried  the 
temptc.l  woman.  "My  soul's  in  the  dark, 
and  the  divil,  that  Mammy  Honey  had  such 
sore  battles  with,  is  standin'  afore  me  and 
hiding  Him  — if  He's  hero  at  all," 

"You're  losiu'  yer  sinso,  dear!"  cried 
John.  "Cheer  up,  now,  and  I'll  get  the 
donkey-cart  and  we'll  have  a  rido  over  to  the 
widow  Doane's,  and  ye'll  carry  her  some  o' 
yer  new  honey ;  and  ye'll  como  back  bright 


eno 


,'  t  " 


"  John,  I'll  never  go  to  see  any  friend  till  I 
first  find  the  Lord ;  and  if  yo  love  me.  Live  roe 
to  myself  till  then.  Could  ye  and  Paddy  do 
without  me  after  dinner  ?    I'd  fain  spend  the 


JMMMftx 


^nHAmmutm 


Bt)<tftittMWtt«^i^'^*W^' 


mmi 


is  a  small 

oublo    nor 
pale  face 

ked  John, 
,  iiivohm- 
Lhc  shecp- 
'  Have   wo 

cried   the 

the   dark, 

had  such 

e  me  and 

r ! "  cried 
11  get  the 
)ver  to  the 
er  some  o' 
lack   bright 

■riei)U  till  I 
ae,  L'.ve  roe 
i  Paddy  do 
1  spend  the 


CONFLICT  AND  VICTOR  T.  W 

lavin's  o'  this  day  alone  in  her  room  in  fastln' 
and  prayer." 

"  Fastia'  ?  Sure,  yer  nof;  turnin'  Papist, 
arc  yc  ?  "  asked  John. 

"  Och,  no,  dear,  but  I'm  seekiu'  my  lost 
Lord  —  Ilim  wliom  my  soul  loveth  ;  and  sure, 
dear,  eatin'  is  o'  small  account  beside  such 
business  as  that !  "  replied  Peggy,  solemnly. 

John  looked  at  her  wonderingly.  His 
mother's  conflicts  and  triumphs  had  been 
matters  of  constant  conversation,  her  religion 
being  so  woven  in  with  her  every-day  life  that 
the  fruits  of  it,  charity  and  patience,  were 
visible  to  all  about  lior.  But  Peggy  had  lived 
within  herself,  being  always  reserved  on  mat- 
tors  of  a  spiritual  nature,  so  that  her  speaking 
thus  freely  amazed  him. 

"  Well,  take  yer  own  way,  wife,"  he  replied ; 
"  only  don't  give  yerself  so  to  religion  as  to 
neglect  the  dairy  and  the  poultry.  The  piousest 
time  ouf  .'notlier  ever  had,  she  was  as  arneat 
about  her  ^-  j  'ss  as  ever.  She  said  that 
liviu'  lear  'he  I  r  d  helped  her  better  with  her 


v,i 


76 


GEMS  OF  THE  BOO. 


duty.  And  for  that,  itself,  if  no  other,  religion 
would  bo  a  fine  thing  in  the  world." 
r  Peggy  prepared  the  humble  meal  and  served 
it  as  one  whose  spirit  was  far  away.  All  being 
restored  to  neatness  in  the  kitche.i,  she  with- 
drew to  the  inner  room,  where  the  time-worn 
Bible  lay  on  a  rude  little  stand,  covered  with  a 
clean  linen  towel ;  and  she  was  seen  no  more 
iu  the  kitchen  that  night.  «- 

In  the  morning  John  was  wakened  from  a 
deep  sleep  by  the  voice  of  singing  in  the 
kitchen,  where  his  good  wife  was  busy  prepar- 
ing the  morning  meal. 

"  Oh,  for  this  love  let  rooks  and  hflli 

Their  lasting  silence  break; 

And  all  harmonious  human  tongues 

The  Saviour's  praises  speak! "  , 

«  Sure,  that  can  never  bo  yo,  Peggy,  tunin' 
up  this  joyful  way,"  he  said,  as  he  entered  the 
kitchen,  over  whose  smooth  clay  floor  the  sun 
was  now  shining  cheerily. 

"Och,  dear  heart!"  cried  Peggy,  coming 
forward  U  meet  him  and  taking  both  his  hands 


CONFLICT  AND  VICTORY. 


11 


J,  tunin' 

tered  tho 

tho  sun 


in  her  own  ;  "  come  and  sit  down  till  I  ask  ye 
a  question.  Did  ye  ever  hear  Mammy  Honey 
say  that  a  body  could  he  '  born  again '  more 
than  once  ?  " 

"Well,  noo,  I  don't  mind  that  I  did," 
replied  John,  with  an  air  of  surprise,  as  he 
looked  at  Peggy's  face,  which  shone  like  an 
angel's.     "  Why,  dear,  what  if  she  did  ?  "    '     > 

"  Why,  then,  if  that  can  be  so,  I've  been 
twice  '  born  again  ; '  once  when  I  was  a  lonely 
orphan t  at  dear  Farmer  Doane's,  and  now  this 
last  night  again.  And,  John,  look  at  me,  and 
tell  mo  if  I'm  the  same  Peggy  ye  saw  breakiu' 
her  heart  these  last  days  because  God  didn't 
give  up  the  rule  o' all  things  —  even  life  and 
death  —  into  her  foolish  hands  ?  " 

"  1  wad  niver  great  on  thaology,"  replied 
John,  "  and  if  ye'd  like,  I'll  drive  ye  to  Cloyn- 
mally  to  ask  yon  question  o'  the  minister  to- 
morrow* 

"  To-morrow !  I  must  walk  the  two  miles 
as  soon  as  my  work  is  over,  and  call  upon  him, 
and  good  elder  Peter,  and  them  all,  to  bless 
and  praise  His  holy  name  that  Ho  has  revealed 


78 


OEMS  OF  THE  BOO. 


Himself  to  me  above  all  my  sins  o'  doubt  and 
distrust,  and  sent  tbo  divil  off  ashamed  to  his 
own  place  —  asliamed  b'  the  mane  sperit  that 
bid  liini  to  pass  by  the  strong  soldiers  o'  the 
cross  to  fight  with  a  poor,  weak  and  ignorant 
child  like  inosilf." 

"  And  will  ye  go  alone,  yerself,  to  the  minis- 
ter's house  ?  "  asked  John  ;  for  that  was  a 
stretch  of  courage  in  her  for  which  he  was  not 
prepared.  •     ^  . 

"  Indade  will  I,  though  I  never  made  that 
bold  before.  Why,  John,  I  would  go  into  his 
pulpit  if  God  bid  me,  to  tell  o'  His  wondrous 
love  —  how  Ho  rovaled  Himself  to  me  as  the 
altogether  lovely,  the  last  night,  when  all  the 
world  but  mo  was  slocpin'.  I  think  I'll  never 
have  time  to  sleep  more  while  I  live,  John ; 
a  whole  life  o'  wakin'  hours  is  far  too  short  to 
praise  Him  in  !  Och,  but  blissed  bo  His  name, 
T'li  have  a  whole  ctariiity  to  finish  in  —  but 
finished  my  praise  can  niver,  nivor  bo." 

Paddy  Mnunon's  appetite  was  the  token  to 
him  thaf^  breakfast  was  ready.  Ho  liad  drawn 
near  the  cottage  and  stood  at,  the  door,  amazed 


i>aiiii]|irtii 


CONFLICT  AND   VICTORY. 


79 


mbt  and 
i  to  his 
Bi'it  that 
8  o'  the 
ignorant 


10  mmis- 
b  was  a 
)  was  not 

ado  that 

into  hia 

yondrou8 

10  as  the 

1  all   the 

I'll  never 

'0,  John ; 

short  to 

lis  name, 

in  —  but 

token  to 
ad  drawn 
r,  amazed 


at  the  joyful  animation  of  his  mistress,  usually 
80  calm  and  silent.  He  entered  and  took  his  seat 
at  tlie  table,  before  tiie  snowy  potatoes  and  the 
savory  herring.  "  She's  been  convarted  into  a 
new  Misthress  Iloney,"  ho  said  to  John. 
"  Sure,  I  never  heerd  her  say  the  like  o'  yon 
afore.  What's  coorao  over  her,  that  the  tears 
is  all  dried  and  she  a  psalm  singing  1 " 

"  Whist,  Paddy,"  said  John.  "  She's  got 
peace  to  her  soul  that  ye  could  niver  under- 
stand if  I  should  strive  to  explain  to  ye."  Alas, 
the  poor  man  did  not  himself  understand 
Peggy's  sudden  transition  from  anguish  to  Joy  ; 
but  he  did  not  tell  Paddy  this.  "  This  cooms 
in  the  way  o'  our  religion,"  he  added.  "  And, 
dear,"  said  ho  to  Peggy  ;  "  be  sure  ye  take  the 
dnrlin'  mannny's  little  egg  basket  to  the  minis- 
tor's,  and  till  his  lady  we'll  keep  up  the  gift 
o'  herself  as  long  as  wo  have  a  hin  to  cackle 
aboot  tlic  doors !  For  I'll  be  sorry  the  minister 
should  think  there  weren't  a  Christian  left  in 
tiie  cottage  to  fade  tho  Lord's  sarvants,  now 
my  mother's  gone !  " 


SSMMI 


CHAPTER  VII. 

VISIT    TO    THE   MINISTER.  • 

THE  soft  breozo  of  the  bright  autumnal 
afternoon  was  playing  among  tho  leaves  of 
the  luxuriant  woodbine  which  overhung  the 
porch  of  the  unpretending  house  of  Mr.  Mur- 
ray, the  excellent  minister  of  Cloynmally, 
when  Peggy  tapped  at  the  door.  Slie  asked 
tho  maid,  "  Do  yo  think  tho  minister  would 
be  at  leisure  to  spake  a  few  words  to  me  ?  " 

She  was  ushered  into  tho  little  parlor,  where 
Mrs.  Murray  sat  reading  to  Iku-  boys,  and  was 
kindly  received.  Before  she  was  seated,  Mr. 
Murray  entered,  and  holding  out  his  iiand, 
spoke  in  very  gentle  tones,  as  is  natural  when 
wo  address  one  in  Ui>op  affliction. 

"  My  good  friund,"  ho  said,  "  I'm  sorry  you 
Bhould  have  to  come  after  mo  in  your  sorrow. 
I  was  going  dowu  to  Killyrooke  in  an  hour  or 

80 


a 


VISIT  TO  THE  MimSTER. 


81 


two,  to  seo  you.  I  met  John  and  heard  how 
crushed  you  were  by  your  great  loss —  and  our 
loss,  too,  Peggy ;  for  we  are  all  mourners  in 
Cloynmally." 

Peggy  dropped  a  low  courtesy  and  looked  up 
to  him  with  a  beaming  face.  "  Dear  Mr. 
Murray,"  she  began,  "  it's  not  to  talk  o'  death 
or  sorrow  I've  come  ;  but  to  tell  ye  something 
that's  wonderful  and  glorious — more  like  a 
message  from  heaven  than  of  arth.  I  don't 
know  whore  to  begin  nor  what  to  say." 

Mr.  Murray  saw  the  unnatural  light  in  tho 
mild  blue  eye,  and  said,  "  As  you  are  so  shy, 
Poggy,  perhaps  you'd  feel  more  free  to  talk 
witli  nio  alone  in  my  study." 

"  0,  dear  heart,  no  !  "  cried  Poggy.  "  I 
want  the  whole  of  Cloynmally  and  Killyrooke 
—  tlie  wliolo  world,  to  know  what  God  has 
done  for  me,  a  poor,  rebillious,  weak,  shy 
tiling,  unworth  his  care  or  notice !  Do  yo 
think,  sir,  tliat  iver  a  body  wjis  *  born  again' 
twice?  " 

"  I  believe,  Poggy,  that  many  who  have  been 
truly  renewed  in  heart  are  afterward  brought 


jJUU-lJil  IJJIIIllH. 


■m 


GEMS  OF  THE  BOO. 


into  a  fuller  liglit  and  joy,  which  seems  to 
them  almost  like  a  new  birth,"  replied  Mr. 
Murray.       ,  '";•"■  ■"^''■'^"•. 

"Well,  dear    Mr.  Murray,  ye  know  well 
what  a  weak  child  I  have  been  — in  spent  — 
always  holding  on  to  Mammy  Honey's  skirt  to 
keep  my  hope  up.     I've  been  years  a  hungcrin' 
and  a  thirstin'  after  righteousness.     But  mind   ' 
what  blindness  I  was  in !     When  I'd  pray,  I'd 
say, '  Make  mo  holy  like  Mammy  Honey,'  and 
not, '  as  He  is  holy.'    I  made  that  blissed  saint 
my  pattern,  and  was  iver  strivin'  to  be  like  her 
and  to  plaze  her.    If  God  helped  me  to  forgive 
my  poor  neighbors  and  to  retarn  them  good 
for  evil,  I  rejoiced,  and  thought, '  That  is  like 
her  ai\d  will  plaze  her.' 

«  When  the  fear  o'  death  would  come  over 
me  I  was  in  great  trouble  because  I'd  be 
parted  from  her,  and  I  used  to  pray  that  God 
would  take  us  two  at  one  time,  havin'  a  kind 
o'  dim  hope  that  her  strength  and  courage 
would  help  to  uphold  me.  But  God  came  and 
took  her  from  mo,  and  I'd  fallen  into  sin  and 
doubted  his  mercy;  and  woe's  me,  I  charged 


raii 


-  m,mmm 


VISIT  TO  THE  MimSTER.  88 

God  with  forgettiu'  to  be  gracious  and  not 
kcepin'    His    covenant    with    the    orphant! 
Satan  tlien  came  and  brought  with  him  black- 
ness and  horrible  darkness;   and  I  lost  God 
and  hope,  as  well  as  her !    Och,  ye  would  ha' 
pitied  me,  dear  sir,  for  I'd  none  to  speak  to  — 
for  John  didn't  understand  me.    I  prayed  for 
hours,  till  I  sank  exliausted  on  ray  pillow  and 
fell  asleep.     Then  I  dramed  that  I  was  walkin* 
weary  and  lame  through  huge   bogs  full  o* 
holes  and  pits,  and  it  black  night  about  me. 
I  dropped  my  staflFand  feared  to  go  on  without 
it,  and  stood  cryin'.    All  of  a  suddent  it  grew 
light,  and  there    before    me    stood    the  two 
shinin'  ones  that  Bunyan  saw,  and  they  bid  me 
have  gjod  heart  and  walk  bravely  homeward. 
I  told  them  I  was  hurted  and  could  not  go 
alone.    Then  said  one  o'  them, '  Ye  are  niver 
alone;  for  tiiough    ye    see  him  not  for  yer 
blindness,  the  Saviour  is  beside  ye  always,  and 
bcnath  ye  are  the  everlasting  arms.    It  is  this 
which  has  kept  ye  so  that  ye  could  not,  and 
that  ye  will  not  fall  —  forivor  ! '    I  looked  at 
my  right  hand,  and  there  stood  one  like  unto 


'"If: 


^  OEMS  OF  THE  BOO. 

the  Son  o'  man,  and  all  the  time  I'd  been  held 
up  by  Him  and   didn't  know   it.     He  turned 
His  lovin'   eyes  on  me  and  spake  ;  but  the 
words  I  can  nivcr  tell,  for  they're  gone  fi-om 
me ;  but  they  left  my  soul  haped  full  o'  joy, 
and  now  there's  room  for  nothing  else  there  ! 
I'm  just  flyin'  to  go  and  be  foriver  with  Him, 
and   yit  I'm   quite   contint  to   'bide  here  tin 
thousand  years  if  by  that  same  I  could  add  a 
whit  to  His  glory  or  bring  one  poor  soul  to 
taste   His  love.    And  my  heart  is  that  full  o' 
love  to  my  neighbors  that  I  could  take  tliem 
all  into  my  arms :  they  are  no  longer  miserable 
•Papists'  to  me,  but  dear  sinners  that  I  must 
get  saved  with  this  great  salvation!    Did  ye 
iver    hear    the    like    o'    this    before,  sir?    I 
walked    all  the  way  to  ask  ye." 

«  Yes,  my  good  woman,"  replied  the  minis- 
ter, looking  in  wonder  at  the  radiant  face  over 
which  tears  of  joy  were  freely  coursing.  «  I 
know  two  persons  who  have  enjoyed  such 
wondrous  revelations  of  God's  mercy.  One  of 
them  was  a  godly  Scotch  minister  in  Dundee. 
,  He  told  me  that  he  once  had  a  season  of  such 


le  minis- 
face  over 
iing.  "I 
yred  such 
One  of 
Dundee. 
)U  of  such 


VISIT  TO   THE  MIlfiaTER. 


85 


perfect  and  conscious  union  with  Christ  that 
lie  liad  no  will  of  his  own  left.  Ho  felt  his 
whole  being,  for  time  and  eternity,  swallowed 
up  in  God.  His  glorious  perfections  and  attri- 
butes were  revealed  to  him  in  a  way  that  led 
him  to  realize  something  of  the  glory  of  heaven, 
where  Ho  is  all  and  in  all.  But  I'll  tell  you, 
my  dear  friend,  what  else  he  said  —  not  to  dis- 
courage you,  but  so  that,  should  his  words 
come  true,  you  will  see  that  no  strange  thing  is 
befalling  you.  He  said  that  in  all  the  cases  he 
had  known  of  this  wondrous  revelation,  God 
was  thus  preparing  the  soul  either  for  some 
great  work  or  some  great  sorrow.  Immedi- 
ately after  his  own  triumphant  view  of  God, 
there  was  such  an  outpouring  of  the  Spirit  as 
had  not  been  in  that  city  for  a  half  century ; 
and  he  was  thus  fitted  to  gather  in  the  lambs 
and  to  edify  the  saints.  A  worthy  old  saint, 
named  Carmichal,  experienced,  years  ago,  much 
the  same  displays  of  God's  power  in  his  soul, 
leading  him  to  make  a  new  and  fuller  sur- 
render of  himself  and  his  all  to  Christ.  Not 
long  after  this  a  fearful  distemper  prevailed, 


#1  OEMS  OF  THE  BOO. 

and  his  three  children  were  smitten  down  and 
his  house  left  unto  him  desolate.  And  he 
said  that  he  gave  them  up  with  joy  in  his  soul 
—  that  he  could  not  refrain  from  falling  on  his 
knees  hefore  his  neighbors,  and  thanking  God 
that  Ho  had  accepted  those  whom  he  had  so 
often  committed  to  His  care." 

«  And  so,  dear  Mr.  Murray,  them  two  had  a 
heaven  as  well  as  mysilf  on  arth.    But  what 
could  labor  be  but  joy,  after  one  has  had  a  look 
at  the  Saviour's  face  ?    I  can't  see  what  could 
como  that  one    would    have  the  boldness  to 
call  '  throuble,'  after  yon  vision  o'  heaven  in 
tlie  soul."  "-:■''    /'■-";■,:-■■-';,  ■'■-^  ;'».-    ■•'.■■' -^  ,■;■■ 
"Why,  Peggy,  death  must  ever  remain  a 
curse,  for  it  separates  us  from  those  we  love, 
you  know,  even  if  they  and  we  are  prepared  to 
meet  again,"  said  the  minister. 

"  But  it  can  never  be  a  curse  to  me,  dear 
heart,  after  this  day.  If  I  had  twenty  Mammy 
Honeys  I'd  give  them  all  to  Him,  though  I'd 
not  a  one  beside,  in  all  the  world,  to  love  me. 
What  could  I  hold  back  from  one  who  gave 
Himself  for  me  ? " 


VISIT  TO   THE  MINISTER. 


87 


"All,  Peggy,  my  good  woman,  you  have 
reached  a  height  your  minister  haa  not  yet 
caught  sight  of.  The  King  has  held  out  His 
Bceptro  to  you  and  suffered  you  to  speak  in  His 
presence  chamber.  Go  home  and  ask  Him  to 
reveal  Himself  to  me  —  His  weary  servant  who 
haa  long  toiled  for  souls  in  darkness  hero  —  as 
He  has  dona  to  you.  And  may  the  God  of  peace 
abide  wiih  you."  -  •/ 

All  this  time  Peggy  liad  held  Mammy 
Honey's  little  egg-basket  on  her  arm,  and  now, 
"ccoUecting  herself,  she  gave  it  with  John's 
oaossage  to  Mrs.  Murray,  and  said,  "  The  sun  is 
iinking,  find  I  must  go  to  look  after  my  milk 
when  poor  Paddy  brings  it  in.  And  I  must 
take  a  step  into  the  church-yard  as  I  go,  to  look 
at  the  swate,  pacof'ii  grave  where  my  darlin'  is 
sleepin."     And  with  a  "-ourtesy  she  departed. 

As  she  passed  thi^  igh  the  little  flowei^gar- 
deu  on  her  way  to  the  "oad,  Peggy  stooped  to 
look  at  a  little  flower  "Pluck  as  many  as 
you  please,  my  dear  friciil,"  said  the  minister, 
who  stood  in  the  door  watching  her.     She 


I 


^a^ 


* .  ..'".;",*■  iSt.  .;*a«. -™^.»?i?Lt;  Vtki';'  .^'W*.  .•- 


^j*«**^u«^^^.ii^  '^^'*^*--^^-^^^-^5i>4^i*Mi^^«£fe4i^^ 


-^^^ofv.-.'jivw ;-'.., '■•.'-':■  - ^■■-'-  ■'i'' 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


1.0 


I.I 


m  11^ 
»J  IIIIIM 

"S  m 
!•  m 


M 
1.8 


1.25      1.4 

1.6 

M 6"     — 

». 

# 


/} 


^ 


/} 


om^ 


■el 


fii 


o 


A» 


W 


/ 


L 


Photographic 

Sciences 
Corporation 


\ 


4^ 


33  WEST  MAIN  STRUT 

WEBSTIR.N.Y.  MS80 

(716)  873-4S03 


^9) 


V 


4^ 


^ 


\\ 


Q> 


^ 


\^^ 
^ 


t^ 


r ,  %<'    w'- 


f/u 


f/. 


CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHM/ICMH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microreproductions  /  Institut  Canadian  de  microreproductions  historiques 


■  ---.>••.  .<i*t*a(««Siii6i»'i.»*»iiMP3'»>'«^'-'"''-''*'«~*'  ■•'-Vw»^«4tUii.ii'.. 


88 


OEMS  OF  THE  BOO. 


gatliered  a  few  sprigs  of  mignonette  and 
licart's-case,  and,  curtseying  lier  thanks,  went 
on.  As  Mr.  Murray  closed  the  door,  ho 
saw  her  press  them  to  lier  lips.  "  Ah,  look  at 
her!  "  he  said  to  his  wife.  "Her  heart  is  so 
full  of  love  to-day  that  she  is  forced  to  pour 
it  out  on  the  smallest  things  that  God  has 
made  !     Oh,  for  her  exceeding  great  joy  !  " 

When  Peggy  reached  the  little  church-ya.-d, 
she  stood  a  moment  looking  over  the  hcdgo 
which  surrounded  it ;  then  she  passed  in,  and 
\ip  a  path  to  the  new-made  grave.  A  work- 
man was  there  trimming  the  hedge ;  two 
little  boys  were  wandering  about  hand-in-hand 
in  solemn  curiosity,  whispering  their  questions 
and  answers  to  each  other ;  a  score  of  merry 
birds  wore  trilling  and  twittering  —  they  hud 
no  fear  of  death.  But  Peggy  heeded  neither 
sight  nor  sound.  She  was  alone  with  God. 
"  Sure,"  she  said,  "  this  can  never  be  the  aw- 
ful place  we  left  so  late !  all  here  is  calm  and 
holy  and  homelike !  and  she,  the  mother  o' 
my  heart,  is  but  slapin'  after  the  wary  day. 


-,-.  "ifo'^.a  iU^'iAi*!.; 


)nette  and 
laiiks,  went 
I  door,  he 
ill,  look  at 
lieart  is  so 
ed  to  pour 
t  God  haa 
■tjoy!" 
Imrch-ya.'d, 

tho  hedge 
ised  in,  and 
I.  A  work- 
ledge ;  two 
and-in-hand 
r  questions 
3  of  merry 
—  they  hud 
dcd  neither 

with  God. 

be  tho  aw- 
I  calm  and 

mother   o' 

wary  day. 


■(»f'^**iiiw^i»-'i-'- 


VISIT  TO  THE  MINISTER. 

This  is  but  the  open  door  to  hiven,  my  Father's 
house,  where  herself  is  a  waitin'  mo  !  But 
whin  I  reach  the  place,  my  heart  will  bo  that 
full  o'  Himself,  that  it'll  be  a  space  ere  I  run 
to  her!  He  is  to  me,  as  niver  till  this  day, 
the  altogether  lovely!  He  makes  death  aisy 
and  the  grave  blissed.  0,  death  !  where  is  *hy 
sting,  0,  grave  !  where  is  thy  victory  ?  They 
are  both  gone  ;  and  we,  when  we  is  risen  with 
Christ,  will  be  conquerors,  and  shall  wear  the 
crown !  Oh,  tho  love  o'  God  in  Christ  Jesus ! 
How  iver  shall  I  show  it  to  the  world,  and 
brii'g  them  all  to  taste  it ! " 

She  sat  on  the  new-laid  sod,  smoothing  it 
gently  with  her  hand.  "  I  must  away  now, 
darlin',  homo  to  my  duties ;  the  roughest  o' 
thim  all  looks  jist  lovely  to  me  now!  I'll 
never  again  ask  to  bring  ye  back  from  ihe  joy 
o'  the  Lord;  never  weep  more  for  ye,  and 
never  cast  reflections  on  God,  by  sayin' — '  I've 
lost  my  mother;'  for  I've  not!  I  have  her 
still,  far  safer  and  surer  nor  before,  in  the 
bosom  o'   the  Lord.    Farewell,  darlin'  dust ! 


%^, 


90 


GEMS  OF  THE  BOO. 


for  there's  nothing  hero  but  that !  "  And  with 
a  plaoid  face,  the  lovnig  crea'ure  pressed  a 
fervent  kiss  on  "  the  dear  arth  that  covered 
the  darlin',"  laid  the  little  flowers  upon  it, 
and  went  on  her  homeward  way. 


And  with 
■e  pressed  a 
lat  covered 
irs  upon   it, 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


SINGING   AND  WOBKINa. 


WHEN  Peggy  returned  to  her  labors,  a 
light  seemed  to  shine  over  every  homely 
thing  she  touched,  and  toil  was  changed  from  a 
curse  to  a  blessing.  When  the  dairy  work  was 
over,  sho  stirred  up  the  peat,  which  usually 
supplied  her  with  light,  and  brought  out  once 
more  the  little  wheel.  The  flax  flew  a"  if 
by  magic  under  her  fingers,  and  the  threads 
ran  from  it  like  silver  wires  in  the  changing 
firelight ;  and  before  she  knew  it,  she  was  ding- 
ing at  her  work.  Tlmt  she  had  rarely  done  in 
her  happiest  day,  for,  as  John  said,  "  sho  was 
snch  a  quiet-like  mousie  yo'd  nivcr  know  sho 
was  in  tlio  world  but  only  for  the  power  o' 
work  she  tarned  off  her  two  hands."  It  had 
been  Mammy  Honey's  wont  to  cheer  lab  r  with 
Bong,  and  Peggy  had  now  resolved  to  bo  as 


92 


GEMS  OF  THE  BOO. 


nearly  like  her  as  possible,  in  all  things.  John 
joined  her  song,  and  at  the  end  of  the  first 
verso  Peggy,  turned  to  Paddy,  who  was  sitting 
cross-legged  on  the  floor  beside  her,  mending 
the  donkey's  harness.  He  always  insisted  that 
"  though  it  was  manners  entirely  to  sit  in  a 
cheer,  if  it  was  rest  a  lad  was  afther,  there  was 
nothing  like  a  smooth  clay  floor  for  that." 
"  Paddy,"  said  his  mistress,''  ye've  got  a  swate 
voice  whin  ye  sing  yon  heap  o'  nonsinsc  ;  why 
can't  yo  use  it,  dear  man,  to  praise  the  Lord 
with  ?  " 

"I'm  afcared  o'  that  cudgel  o'  his  rivor- 
enco's,  misthress  dear.  I've  felt  the  weight  o't 
moor  nor  once ,  and  one  time  warn't  my 
shoulders  black  and  blue  with  the  knocks  I  got 
o't  for  larnin'  the  'Simbly's  Catechism?  I 
promished  him  that  day  I'd  hear  no  more 
prayers  here,  and  forgit  that  same  catechism  — 
sure  I  know  it  so  well  now  that  I  can  say  ivory 
blissed  word  o't  and  count  at  the  same  time ! 
Whin  Misthress  Honey  wint  and  asked  him 
what  her  b'y  had  ben  doin'  that  dosarved  im- 
braces  like  yon,  didn't  ho  toll  ber  I'd   boon 


« 


SINOma  AND  WORKING. 


93 


ings.  John 
of  tho  first 
was  sitting 
}r,  mending 
iisisted  that 

to  sit  in  a 
•,  there  was 

for  that." 
got  a  swate 
isinse  ;  why 
Q  tho   Lord 

'  his  river- 
3  weight  o'fc 
warn't  my 
nocks  I  got 
)chism  ?  I 
r  no  more 
atochism  — 
m  say  ivory 
samo  time ! 
asked  him 
sarved  im- 
r  rd   been 


Stalin'  pears  out  o'  his  garden  ?  It  nigh 
broke  iior  heart  thinkin'  that  I,  a  well-fed  lad, 
would  be  that  mean  and  vicious!  And  niver  a 
pear  did  he  raise  in  tliat  ould  garden  ! 

"  Well,  thin  slie  put  me  to  larnin'  the  com- 
mandmint,  'Thou  shalt  not  stale  ; '  and  tho  drst 
time  I  confissed,  didn't  lie  draw  that  out  o'  me 
and  give  mo  another  batin'  ?  So  betwixt  the 
twos  o'  'em  poor  Paddy  had  a  sorry  life  o't, 
and  the  wise  conclusion  I  come  to  was  jist 
tliis :  to  belave  my  dear  misthress'  religion, 
and  to  pretind  that  I  belaved  his.  So  that 
ways  I  gets  on  quite  asy.  No,  no,  I'll  not  be 
caught  by  any  neighbor  that'll  chance  in,  a 
singing  hums,  but  I'll  listen ;  that's  all  ye  can 
expect  o'  me." 

"  Tliere,  there,  Paddy,  don't  hinder  the  swate 
singin'  all  night  with  yer  talk,  foolish  man. 
Keep  quiet  while  we  sing,  and  try  to  praise 
God  in  yer  heart,"  said  John. 

"  Ay,"  replied  Paddy,  "  I  wull.  Don't  ye 
think,  masther,  the  lather  o'  thim  reins  war 
rotten  entirely  whin  we  bought  em?  I  was 
toUin'  Jack  Garin— —  " 


itnUMU'titilii't 


i     '; 


M 


94 


OEMS  OF  THE  BOO. 


"  Whist,  Paddy,"  cried  John,  sharply,  "  and 
listen  to  tlie  singin'." 

"I  wull,  thin,"  answered  Paddy,  bending 
over  his  work,  and  pressing  his  lips  together 
so  tiglitly  that  no  word  could  slip  through 
unawares. 

When  Peggy  had  finished  her  spinning  and 
her  singing  for  tlio  night,  she  brought  out  two 
large  bags  filled  with  yarn,  carded  and  spun 
by  the  hands  now  folded  forever.  She  poured 
out  the  hanks  on  the  table,  and  looking  proud- 
ly at  the  high  mound  they  made,  said,  "  Look, 
John  and  Paddy  !  ,  It's  little  o'  this  yo'll  need, 
for  she  left  ye  both  supplied  with  warm  stock- 
ings for  five  years.  So  the  nady  will  get  it ; 
and  I've  had  jist  a  lovely  thought  come  to  me, 
like  it  had  come  from  herself  in  heaven." 

"  May  be  ;  but  it  wouldn't  need  come  so  far, 
for  yer  own  heart's  full  o'  as  good  and  pure 
thoughts  as  is  to  bo  found  any  where ; "  replied 
John ;  "  but  let  us  hear  this  one." 

"  Whin  I  was  wonderin'  what  more  lovin' 
■work  I  could  do  in  the  world,  this  came  to  my 
mind,    that    I  was  young    and    strong,   a'ld 


ini)Miifiifcidiwj»j[<>i<aiiiiji>^.. 


•ply,  "  and 

r,  bending 
IS  together 
p  through 

uning  and 
lit  out  two 

and  spun 
he  poured 
ing  proud- 
d,  "  Look, 
yo'll  need, 
arm  stock- 
^ill  get  it ; 
»mo  to  me, 
.ven." 
une  so  far, 

and  pure 
; "  replied 

ore  lovin' 
line  to  my 
roug,   a'ld 


fiiUiiAiiriairiiiiiiiaifcjiliifc, 


SmaiNO  AUTD  WORKINO. 

didn't  nnde  all  the  slape  I'm  takin' ;  and  that  if 
I'd  rise  one  hour  arlier  and  go  to  slape  one  hour 
later,  nddin'  that  time  to  the  hours  I  could 
give  to  her  old  work  for  the  nady,  it  ^ould 
atone  a  bit  for  the  loss  o'  her,  and  it  would 
make  me  that  glad  to  feel  that  myself  was 
honored  by  fiUin'  her  place  ir.  tlie  poor's 
hearts ; "  and  parcelling  out  the  yarn  she 
continued,  "  Thim  skeins  will  bo  enough  for 
Teddy  Byrns,  and  thim  for  old  Davie  Loon. 
These  will  knit  four  pairs  for  the  poor  babies 
o'  careless  Kate  Connor,  and  tliese  for  lamo 
Jerry,  and  them  for  the  poor  fool,  and——" 

"  Quit,  Peggy,  woman,"  cried  John,  starting 
up,  and  manifesting  a  temper  tiiat  she  had 
seldom  seen  before  ;  "  would  ye  be  turnin'  yer 
back  on  yer  husband's  honor  and  on  tlie  rispic- 
tability  o'  all  the  race  o'  Sheohan  by  covering 
the  feet  o'  yon  vile  scapegrace  ?  I  hope  the 
toes  will  freeze  off  his  two  feet,  and  that  he'll 
starve  to  death  with  the  cold  afore  spring 
laughs  on  the  fields  agin  —  to  disgrace  a 
fine  rispictable  funeral  as  he  did  yon  day,  -— 
the  villyan !  " 


tmm 


96 


OEMS  OF  THE  BOO. 


«' 


"  Mam  my  Honey  both  clothed  and  faded 
her  inimies,  John,  and  it's  no  more  nor  the 
Musther  bids  us  all  do.  Sure,  there'd  bo  a 
great  tarnin'  up  o'  tilings  if  Himself  sliould 
cease  to  fade  ony  but  His  friends !  0,  dear 
man,  mind  He's  sent  His  rain  on  our  fields 
mony  the  time  when  we  war  livin'  forgetful 
enough  o'  Him,  and  has  had  an  eye  on  every 
cratur'  in  herd  or  fold  while  we  war  slapiu' 
warm  in  our  bed." 

"  Peggy,  woman,  ye'ro  a  great  sheep.  I  b^ 
lave  if  one  should  slap  ye  in  the  face  ye'd  offer 
him  bread  and  milk  to  pay  him  for  his  attin- 
tions !  Now  mind  what  I  say  —  that  seldom 
bids  ye  agin  yer  will,  as  other  husbands  does 
—  let  no  mouthful  that  I  arns  iver  go  betwane 
the  teeth  o'  yon  fool,  and  let  no  wool  off"  my 
sheep's  backs  ever  cover  his  old  feet !  I'm 
plannin'  yet  how  I'll  punish  him  for  yon  onre- 
ligious  insult,  and  ye'd  be  knittin'  stockiu's 
for  him  the  manewhile  !     Indade  !  " 

Peggy  jaade  no  reply  ;  but  Paddy's  ready 
tongue  filled  up  the  gap  which  would  other- 
wise have  been  left  in  the  couversatiou. 


]nin'na■}ll,ii&riai^«ll 


^iwiiiii^iV'iirVtfiifiahiiJiifi*!    - 


and  faded 
>re  nor  the 
lere'd  be  a 
self  sliould 
i!  0,  dear 
our  fields 
a'  forgetful 
e  on  every 
war  slapiu' 

eep.  I  be- 
J  ye'd  offer 
r  his  attin- 
liat  seldom 
sba'jds  docs 
go  betwane 
ool  off  my 
feet !  I'm 
*  you  onre- 
i'  stockiu's 

Idy's  ready 
ould  other- 
iou. 


SiyOINO  AND  WORKING. 


VT 


"  Masther,  dear,"  ho  cried,  eagerly,  "  will  ye 
lave  his  punishment  in  my  hands  ?  I'll  hide 
ahind  the  hedge  when  I  sees  him  comin',  all 
dressed  in  a  shate  wid  horns  on  my  head,  and 
hug  him  in  my  two  arms.  He's  the  cowardest 
cratur'  in  Killyrooke,  and  that  would  tarmint 
him  far  more  nor  the  hugest  batin  !  " 

"  Och,  John,  dear,  don't  let  Paddy  taze  him, 
for  he's  one  o'  the  Lord's  stricken  ones,  and 
we'd  surely  grieve  Him  if  we'd  be  to  scare 
away  the  bit  o'  sinse  he  has.  Shame  on  ye, 
Paddy  Mannon  !  Ye  that  are  so  afeared  o' 
ghosts  and  the  Evil  One  that  ye  daren't  go  to 
yer  bed  alone,  and  has  to  be  coaxed  up  to  the 
kitchen  fire  like  a  froze  lamb  ;  ye  to  be  plot- 
tin'  torture  like  yon  for  a  poor  thing  that's 
witless  enough  to  do  ony  man's  biddin' !  " 

"  Well,  noo,  both  o'  ye  do  my  hiddin\"  said 
John.  "  Paddy,  ye  lave  yon  fool  in  yer  mas- 
ther's  hand;  and,  Peggy,  let  me  see  no 
stockiu's  goin'  out  o'  the  cottage  to  him." 

This  resolute  tone  was  so  unlike  the  yielding 
John  that  Peggy  looked  up  in  alarm,  and 
made  no  reply.  Bemembering,  as  she  never 

7 


■iSim 


pvunnpii 


98 


GEMS  or  TUE  BOG. 


ceased  to  do,  that  all  there  belonged  to  John, 
and  that  she  came  to  him  a  poor  orphan  with 
lier  worldly  all  in  a  little  blue  trunk  that 
Paddy  had  carried  into  tlio  cottage  in  one 
hand,  she  submitted  to  his  will. 


«iMirilailiiai.Hir«tiMl>>irii 


iii'^ifi-tmn'a^  •■tirt  ihiiiiftii 


1  to  John, 
plian  with 
runk  that 
;e   ill   one 


CHAPTER  IX. 


AN    UKWELCOME    GUEST. 


THE  winter,  long  and  dreary,  wore  away, 
and  the  first  whisperings  of  spring  were 
heard  among  the  brandies  around  the  cottage. 
Cheerfully  as  the  fond  Peggy  had  yielded  up 
her  mother  to  God,  she  yet  suffered  at  times 
an  unutterable  longing  for  her,  and  an  unde- 
fined dread  lest  the  swallows  might  not  come 
back  to  build  under  tho  thatch,  and  that  the 
liawthorn  and  honeysuckle  would  forget  to 
bloom.  It  seemed  impossible  that  the  birds 
could  come,  now  that  the  hand  which  had  fed 
them  was  gone,  or  that  the  vinos  could  creep 
upwaid  in  their  silent  strength  when  her  hand 
was  not  there  to  train  them  ;  or  that  the  sham 
rock  and  the  daisy  could  peep  above  the  cold 
sod,  when  she  who  had  so  loved  their  lowly 
beauty  was  no  longer  there  to  smile  on  them. 


100 


GEMS  OF  THE  BOO. 


Nature  is  n-^t  retarded  in  her  progress  by 
any  changes  in  our  homes,  but  moves  on  in 
her  noiseless  work  to  cheer  the  hearts  and  pro- 
vide for  the  wants  of  tho  living. 

Fruits  succeeded  the  blossoms,  and  again 
the  grain  waved  with  its  ripened  burden  in  the 
fields  of  Daisy  Farm.  The  reapers  were  busy 
with  John  and  Paddy  at  a  distance  from  the 
house.  Peggy  felt  keenly  the  loss,  which 
seemed  renewed  by  this  commemorative  sea- 
son. The  stillness  of  the  cottage  impressed 
her  so  painfully,  one  day,  that  she  was  glad 
when  the  sinking  sun  shone  aslant  the  door- 
stone,  reminding  her  that  it  was  time  to  go  to 
her  milking.  The  shadows  had  begun  to  fall 
before  she  had  finished  her  wo;  k  in  the  barn- 
yard ;  and  being  sad,  she  was  not  as  brave  as 
usual.  At)  she  took  up  her  stool  in  one  hand 
and  her  shining  pail  in  the  other,  and  turned  to 
go  towards  "  Maid  o'  Longford,"  the  last  cow, 
she  was  not  a  little  startled  at  seeing  a  tall, 
thin  figure  close  behind  her  in  tho  garb  of  a 
beggar.  The  famine  was  just  then  beginning 
to    cast  its  shadow  over  poor   Ireland,  and 


k.tMMiMMd'lL*'  ■  W^miihMvM 


tKiir  ]    'ii)»iiiriiiii>i 


progress  by 
lovcs  on  in 
irts  and  pro- 

,  and  again 
Lirdeu  in  the 
s  were  busy 
ice  from  the 
loss,  which 
lorative  sea- 
e  impressed 
10  was  glad 
it  the  door- 
irae  to  go  to 
)egun  to  fall 
,n  the  bam- 
as  brave  as 
in  one  hand 
id  turned  to 
le  last  cow, 
icing  a  tall, 
10  garb  of  a 
1  beginning 
I'eland,  and 


AN  UNWELCOME  QUEST. 


101 


beggars  were  becoming  not  only  plenty,  but 
insolent,  often  threatening  and  cursing  those 
who  did  not  meet  all  their  demands. 

Always  timid,  Peggy  was  really  terrified  as 
the  close,  black  hood  was  not  lifted  from  the 
face  of  the  silent  beggar. 

"And  what  is  it  I  can  do  for  ye,  poor 
thing?"  she  asked,  in  a  tremulous  voice. 

"  Peggy,"  replied  the  woman,  « it's  a  si  3lter 
and  a  bit  o'  bread  I  wants.  For  the  love  o' 
God  and  Mammy  Honey  take  me  in,  for  I'm 
dying  with  hunger  and  wakeness." 

The  voice  struck  Peggy  with  n  sudden  faint- 
ness,  and  she  exclaimed,  "  Sure,  Nanny,  tluT 
is  never  ye,  lookin'  thus  miserable  ?  " 

"  It's  no  other,"  replied  the  girl,  throwing 
back  her  hood,  and  showing  her  wan  face. 
"  Peggy,  Mammy  Honey  never  refused  shelter 
even  to  a  dumb  brute." 

"No  more  will  her  child  do  it,"  replied 
Peggy.    "  I'll  give  ye  all  ye  nade." 

"  Well,  thin,  I  nades  a  homo  more  nor  any 
thing  else.  I've  been  tindin'  bar  ilsewhere 
since  I  left  ould  Crogan,  who  niver  paid  me  a 


102 


GEMS  OF  THE  BOG. 


lia'  pith,  and  I  was  sick  tho  last  three  mouths 
in  a  hospital,  and  have  walked  all  the  road 
home,  and  am  dyin'." 

"Why  not  go  to  yer  own  father's  house, 
child?  Where  elho  would  one  go  in  throu- 
ble  ?  "  asked  Peggy. 

"  Tliey'ro  angered  with  me  for  lavin'  thim 
that  suddent.  My  mother  sint  word  she'd 
murther  mo  if  iver  I  come  aboot  here  agin." 

"  And  why  thin  did  ye  come,  child  ?  "  asked 

Peggy. 

"To  find  marcy  at  yer  hand,  ye  happy 
•woman.  Lot  mo  'bide  under  ye'  marciful 
ruff,"  she  answered,  in  an  imploring  tone. 

Peggy's  heart  sank  within  her,  but  her 
kindness  triumphed  over  her  fears,  and  sho 
replied,  "  Ye  may  'bide  hero,  Nanny,  till  ye'ro 
warmed  and  fed,  but  if  they'd  give  mo  Harploy 
Hall  I  could  never  give  70  a  home.  Mammy 
Honey  bid  us  two  live  by  ourselves,  with  her 
last  brith.  But  come  with  me  now  into  the 
cottage ; "  and  Peggy  took  the  little  rod  shawl 
from  off  her  own  shoulders,  and  wrapped  it 
around  the  girl,  who  was  shivering,  for   the 


AN  UNWELCOMr  GUEST. 


108 


•ee  mouths 
[  the  road 

;r's  house, 
iu  throu- 

lavin'  thim 
rord   she'd 
0  agin." 
d?"  asked 

ye  happy 
'    marciful 
;  toue. 
',   but    hop 
9,  aud   sho 
y,  till  ye' re 
no  Harpley 
I.     Mammy 
s,  with  her 
)«r  iuto  the 
[J  rod  shawl 
wrapped    it 
ng,  for   the 


dew  was  falling,  and  led  the  way  to  the  cot- 
tage. Here  she  stirred  the  peat  till  the 
waiting  kettle  puffed  out  anew  its  steam,  aud 
then,  taking  down  from  a  high  shelf  the  tiny 
canister,  mixed  a  cup  of  tea. 

When  Nan  was  well  warmed  and  revived  by 
a  good  supper,  her  old  assurance  returned. 

"  Come,  Peggy,"  she  said,  coaxingly,  "  give 
a  poor,  disappointed  and  abused  girl  a  home 
iu  yer  cottage,  and  I'll  spin  and  wave  for  ye 
from  daybreak  till  midnight." 

"Nanny,"  replied  Peggy,  summoning  all 
her  courage,  "I'll  do  ye  good  ony  way  but 
this.  Ye  can  niver  ^bide  in  this  house.  John 
made  me  misthress  o't  the  day  God  took  the 
darliu'  mother  to  Himself ;  and  while  I  remain 
that  ye  can  never  slape  under  this  thatch." 

Nan  gave  a  low,  derisive  laugh,  which  made 
her  wan  face  terrible,  and  said,  "  If  I  war  a 
Protestant  ye'd  kapo  me.  But  take  yer  own 
way ;  there's  poor  luck  follows  them  as  tarns 
the  homeless  oot  o'  doors." 

"  Ye  are  not  homeless,  child,  and  nather  am 
I  thrntin'  ye  out;  but  doin'  my  hist  for  ye," 


I 


m 


104 


OEMS  OF  THE  BOO. 


replied  Peggy.  "  Paddy  Mannon,  that's  o' 
yer  own  religion,  has  often  declared  he'd  not 
'bide  under  the  same  ruff  with  ye,  for  he's 
heard  evil  tales  o'  ye,  child,  since  ye  left  me. 
So,  when  yo'ro  well  rested,  go  over  to  the 
father's  house  and  get  forgiveness,  and  be  a 
good  girl.  There  come  my  rapers  now  over 
the  field,  and  I  must  take  up  their  supper. 
Here's  a  crown,  if  ye'd  be  wantin'  any  little 
comforts." 

Nan  rose  feebly,  took  the  proffered  crown, 
turned  her  deep  blue  eyes  sorrowfully  on  the 
good  woman,  and  said  in  a  hollow  tone,  which 
struck  to  her  heart,  "Ye  may  see  the  day. 
Peg  O'Canty,  when  ye'U  cross  this  door-stone 
with  a  sorrowfuUer  heart  nor  I  do  now !  " 

Peggy  was  startled  by  her  wild  manner,  and 
cried,  "Och,  Nanny,  child,  don't  be  cursin' 
yer  bist  friend!  I'm  ony  mindin'  Mammy 
Honey's  biddin',  and  yet  I  must  tell  ye  that 
I'm  more  afeared  o'  ye  nor  o'  death  itself." 

"  And  well  ye  may  be,"  cried  Nan,  as  with 
another  stare  at  the  timid  woman  she  departed 
for  her  home. 


■ift<i»i>iii»wvwfrtitftrtn 


mimMlmmtilmmmltlllgi 


,  that's  o' 
i  he'd  not 
re,  for  he's 
ye  left  me. 
)ver  to  the 
,  and  be  a 
s  now  over 
eir  supper. 
i'  any  little 

jred  crown, 
■iiUy  on  the 
tone,  which 
se  the  day, 

door-stone 
ow ! " 
lanncr,  and 

be  cursin' 
n'  Mammy 
tell  ye  that 
I  itself." 
Ian,  as  with 
he  departed 


yiUjlil^^ 


AN  UNWELCOME  OVEST. 


105 


Peggy  was  in  an  agony.  She  could  then 
have  given  her  the  cottage  and  all  it  con- 
tained, so  great  was  her  fear  of  Nan's  designs 
on  licr  peace  of  mind.  The  serpent's  tooth  had 
euterod  Peggy's  heart,  and  she  could  scarcely 
wait  till  the  reapers  had  gone  out  to  smoke  by 
the  roadside,  to  cry,  "Tell  me  once  for  all, 
John,  that  ye  love  me  more  nor  all  else  in  the 
world." 

John  laughed  and  asked,  "  Who  other  have 
I  to  love,  jewel  ?  " 

When  Peggy  told  the  story  of  Nan's  visit,  he 
said,  "  Ye  did  well,  for  she's  not  fit  company 
for  ye,  and  I'll  not  sufier  her  aboot  the  place 
after  the  word  o'  our  mother."  And  Peggy 
was  satisfied,  and  laughed  at  her  own  fears 
and  those  of  Paddy,  roused  by  Nan's  boast, 
which  had  reached  their  ears  that  though  John 
was  her  father's  playmate,  she  would  be  his 
second  wife,  and  have  that  fine  cottage  and 
dairy  yet. 


I* 

P 
IP 


U 


CHAPTER  X. 

FAMINE  AND  DEATH. 

THE  fever  which  followed  in  the  wake  of 
starvation  in  Ireland  some    twenty  yeata 
ago,  had  been  sweeping  off  its  victims  in  the 
surro.  ading     rej^ion,   but    had    not    hitherto 
reached  Killyrooke,  nor  yet  had  the  potatoes 
there  suffered  to  any  greet  extent.    The  peo- 
ple listened  witli  white  lips  to  any   account  of 
*'  the  sickness,"  and  if  a  person  came  from  an 
infected  region  they  fled  from  him  as  if  he  had 
the  plague.    Tlic  stoutest  hearts  quailed  before 
the  dreadful  scourge,  and  men  were  afraid  even 
to  be  merciful  to  the  starving,  lest  the  next 
day  their  own  little  ones  might  be  crying  for 
bread. 

Meg  Mannon  had  extended  h  •  begging  ex- 
cursion unwittingly  into  a  village  where  tho 
fever  had  jurt  broken  out.    Tl  -  half-starved 

IM 


m  w  u  mrm  MMwijn  m4MintlltKKltamttllSl$ 


p^j^mufi 


10  wake  of 
wonty  yeats 
tims  ill  tlio 
lot  hitliorto 
Lhe  potatoes 
t.  The  peo- 
accouub  of 
ime  from  an 
as  if  he  had 
nailed  before 
0  afraid  even 
est  the  next 
>e  crying  for 

begging  ex- 

;e  wliere  the 

half-starved 

10 


FAMINE  AND  DEATH. 


107 


and  poorly  sheltered  people  were  flying,  panic- 
stricken,  ill  every  direction.  Here  she  fell 
sick,  and  gave  a  pauper  two  shillings  to  walk 
three  miles  to  Killyrooke  for  Paddy,  who  ran 
all  the  way  there,  howling  piteously,  talking  to 
her  and  crying  real  tears,  and  not  the  mock 
ones  he  got  up  for  strangers.  He  reached  the 
workliouse  "just  in  time  to  see  her  die  without 
a  word  o'  love  to  the  fine  b'y  who  had  been 
layin'  down  his  very  life  for  her  all  the  years 
she  war  his  wife." 

Oh,  the  overflowing  anguish  of  that  poor, 
foolish  heart  in  that  bitter  hour,  with  none  to 
speak  a  soothing  word,  and  the  gruff  beadle 
giving  his  orders  impatiently  to  have  Meg 
buried  before  her  form  was  cold  ! 

Paddy  grasped  this  dignitary  by  the  arm  j 
and  while  his  tears  ran  like  a  summer  shower, 
he  cried,  "  Oh,  if  yer  honor  has  the  heart  o'  a 
hoosband  benath  his  waistcoat,  I  imploores  him 
to  give  me  the  swate  clay  o'  my  lovely  wife  till 
I  gets  it  waked  and  buried  in  holy  ground  at 
Killyrooke  —  the  only  place  in  all  the  wide 
world  worth  bein' buried  in." 


108 


OEMS  OF  THE  BOG. 


The  hard  heart  of  the  beadle  was  moved  by 
Paddy's  deep  grief,  and  he  finally  promised  to 
lot  the  body  remain  in  an  out-building  till  the 
devoted  husband  could  make  his  arrangements 
at  home,  and  return  for  it  with  the  donkey- 
cart. 

So,  carrying  the  frightened  little  Pat  in  his 
arms,  Paddy  ran  back  at  the  top  of  his  speed 

—  he  had  won  a  fine  pipe  and  a  steel  tobacco- 
box  once  at  a  foot  race  —  and  rushed  breathless 
into  the  cottage. 

*'  Och  —  masther  —  John  —  and  Peggy,  ye 
angel  o'  a  woman — I've  a  great  honor — to 
ask  o'  ye.    For  the  sake  o'  —  Mammy  Honey 

—  that  nive.*  denied  me  an  honor  —  for  the 
sake  o'  the  Virgin  —  Mary  —  and  all  the  saints 
ontirely  —  would  ye  let  me— bring  Meg— the 
dear  dead  jewel  —  to  the  ould  cow-house  fernint 
the  bog  to-night  to  be  waked,  and  thin  to  be 
buried  the  morrow  ?  " 

Terrified  as  they  were  by  the  very  name  of 
the  sickness  by  which  Meg  had  died,  and  by 
the  sight  of  Paddy  and  his  boy  from  an  infected 
house,  they  had  not  the  heart  to  deny  his  re- 


iMHta 


s  moved  by 
promised  to 
liug  till  the 
rrangements 
the  donkey- 

!  Pat  iu  his 
of  his  speed 
tcel  tobacco- 
;d  breathless 

Peggy,  yo 
t  honor  —  to 
mmy  Honey 
r  —  for  the 
ill  the  saints 
g  Meg — the 
louse  fernint 

thill  to  be 

3ry  name  of 
lied,  and  by 
a  an  infected 
deny  his  re- 


■Ha 


MHkt' 


FAMINE  AXD  DEATH. 


lOf 


quest.  But  the  prudent  John  dared  not  trust 
his  donkey  in  the  infected  region,  and  told 
Paddy  so.  He,  nothing  daunted,  replied,  sob- 
bing bitterly,  "  Och,  masther,  heart  o'  love,  if 
ye'd  be  to  lend  me  the  loan  o'  the  dray  we 
drags  water  with  from  the  loch,  I  .a  quite 
willin'  to  be  a  donkey  mesilf,  for  the  sake  o' 
kapin'  my  word  to  the  dead  jewel,  that  I'd  give 
her  a  fine  funeral.  Och !  och !  But  it's  black 
night  entirely  in  my  soul  now  and  will  iver  be 
till  the  day  when  I  lies  down  beside  her.  I'll 
never  ate,  drink  or  smoke  more ;  why  would  I 
when  she's  dead  ?  Och !  och !  oo,  hoo ! "  It 
really  seemed  to  Peggy  that  Paddy's  heart 
would  break  through*  its  strong  breast- works 
with  its  tremendous  throes. 

Peggy  wept  too,  not  that  she  cared  milch  for 
the  beggar-woman,  but  from  sympathy  with  him. 
She  told  Paddy  to  take  poor  little  Pat  into  the 
cow-house  and  feed  him  well,  and  put  him  to 
rest  in  the  hay  till  his  return,  for  John  was 
not  willing  either  father  or  child  should  remain 
iu  the  cottage  a  moment.    Having  done  this, 


PIBP 


it; 


110  GE3IS  OF  THE  BOO. 

and  in  a  marvclously  short  timo  returned  with 
hig   melancholy  burden  ou  the  dray,  he   went 
off  to  spend  his    quarter's   wages   in    ginger- 
bread, whisky  and  tobacco,  and  to  invite  his 
fiienls  to  the  melancholy  feast.     But  the  news 
had  preceded  him,  and  they  all  fled  from  him 
with  screams  of  terror.     So  he  returned  homo 
and  shouted    to  his  mistress  from  the  stile : 
*'  Sure,  I've  lost  my  quarter's  wages,  for  not  a 
one  will  come  to  the  wake ;  the  fools  is   all 
afeard  o'  Meg,  as  harmless  a  cretur'  as  iver 
begged  bread.    But  she'll  get  a  prayer  said  for 
the  repowse  o'  her  sowl,  as  good  a  one  as  if  she 
war  the  lady  o'  Harpley  Hall,  and  I'll  settle 
wiih   his  riverence    at  ihe   end  o'    my  uixt 

quarter." 

And  Paddy,  who  was  so  afraid  of  death 
that  he  ran  off  a  few  months  before  and  stayed 
away  two  days  when  the  oldest  donkey  died, 
sat  alone  in  the  cow-house  all  night  beside  his 
dead,  singing  a  dirge,  or  howling  and  crying. 
Now  and  then  he  consoled  himself  with  his 
pipe,  but  he  dared  not  even  cast  a  sly  glance 


limed  with 
',  he  went 
in    ginger- 
invite  his 
it  the  news 
from   him 
irned  home    . 
the   stile : 
3,  for  not  a 
bols  is   all 
;ur'  as  iver 
yer  said  for 
»ne  as  if  she 
i  I'll  settle 
>'    my  uixt 

d  of  death 
5  and  stayed 
onkoy  died, 
lit  beside  his 
and  crying, 
elf  with  his 
I  sly  glance 


FAMINE  AND  DEATB. 


Ill 


at  the  whisky  jug,  lest  that  might  bring  up 
Mammy  Honey,  who  was  a  sworn  foe  to  every 
thing  like  it. 

Some  mourners  plant  rare  flowers  and  rear 
costly  monuments  over  their  beloved  dead  ;  but 
it  costs  them  nothing  compared  with  what 
Paddy  endured  before  he  thus  rose  triumphant 
over  inborn  cowardice  and  natural  superstition. 
Had  he  believed  that  his  doing  so  would  have 
helped  Meg's  unshriven  soul  to  slip  more  easily 
through  purgatory,  he  would  have  lain  down 
and  been  buried  beside  her. 

In  the  gray  light  of  the  morning,  while 
little  Pat  was  sleeping  soundly  in  the  hj"./, 
Paddy  drew  poor  Meg  to  the  httlo  Catholic 
churchyard  and,  lowered  her  gently  uito  a  grave 
he  had  dug  there  the  night  before,  talking  to 
her  all  the  time  amid  bursts  of  tears,  "  It's  yer 
own  Paddy,  dear,  that's  puttin'  ye  to  rist.  It 
war  him  made  yer  bed,  and  only  for  little  Pat 
he'd  come  and  lie  down  aside  ye.  Sure  I'd 
niver  let  ould  Murtagh  dig  yer  grave  with  his 
dirty  hands.  No,  darliii',  mesilf  did  it  with  me 
best  Sunday  clothes  on,  —  thim  as  was  Daddy 


j»p:afc*frag*'w'S'fcWi<iBniiilp« 


i^. 


lit 


GEifS  OF  THE  BOO. 


Shoehan's  — though  they're  a  trifle  too  big  — 
fbr  lie  was  a  huge  man,  ye  mind.  Good-by  to 
ye,  Meg,  ye  fine  ombitious  gcrl.  The  sun  sljines 
not  on  yer  lilco,  and  it's  a  sliort  space  Paddy 
can  live  in  the  world  ahind  ye." 

The  "  holy  Father  "  now  came  up  according 
to  appointment,  and,  standing  at  a  respectful 
distance,  read  a  service  of  which  Paddy  could 
not  understand  a  word ;  and  it  was  just  as  well 
it  was  in  Latin,  for  had  it  been  in  English,  his 
reverence  was  too  far  off"  to  be  heard. 

All  being  over,  Paddy  returned  to  the  old  cow- 
house, the  same  in  which  he  and  Meg  had  kept 
bouse  occasionally,  and  prepared  breakfast  out 
of  doors  for  himself  and  his  child,  Peggy 
having  set  a  jug  of  milk  half  way  between 
them  and  the  cottage. 

After  Paddy  and  his  boy  had  been  quaran- 
tined for  several  days  in  the  old  cow-house 
without  showing  any  symptoms  of  the  dreaded 
fever,  Peggy  allowed  them  to  come  to  the  cot- 
tage one  evening,  and  eat  their  bread  and  milk 
on  the  door-stone.  Standing  in  the  farthest 
corner  of  the  kitchen,  she  said,  "  Paddy,  yer 


FAMINE  AND  DEATH. 


113 


too  big  — 
Good-by  to 
3  sun  sbines 
)aco  Paddy 

)  according 
a  respectful 
'addy  could 
just  as  well 
English,  his 
rd. 

the  old  cow- 
leg  had  kept 
>rea1cfast  out 
ihild,  Peggy 
'ay  between 

)een  quaran- 
i  cow-house 
the  dreaded 
5  to  the  cot- 
sad  and  milk 
the  farthest 
"  Paddy,  yer 


masther  and  mo  is  both  wonderful  taken  up 
with  yon  curly-headed  lamb  o'  yours ;  and  he 
bids  ye  not  take  him  back  to  the  workhouse, 
for  lie's  to  'bide  with  us  and  be  our  child,  as 
wc  niver  had  one  o'  our  own.  And  who  can 
tell,  Paddy,  but  God  took  Meg  away  tliat  the 
poor  larabio  might  be  spared  a  beggar's  life, 
and  grow  up  a  holy  man  to  fear  God  and  to 
sarvo  liis  gineration."  :       i 

"  Very  like  He  did,  thin,"  replied  Paddy, 
"  and  if  so,  it  war  a  great  stroke  o'  luck  that 
sint  her  to  that  town  the  very  day  the  faver 
began ! " 

*'  Don't  say  that,  Paddy,  o'  the  poor  mother ; 
for  whativer  failiu's  Meg  had,  slie  was  tinder 
o'  the  boy  —  niver  lavin'  him  about  among 
neighbors,  as  the  half  o'  them  do,  but  draggin' 
him  weary  miles  on  her  back  !  " 

"  That's  true,  iudade !  But  for  all,  it  was 
luck  to  little  Pat,  that  tuk  her  off,  if  therebys 
he's  to  be  rared  the  son  o'  a  fine,  rispectable 
farmer,  place  o'  beiu'  reared  a  beggar.  It's 
fine  luck  for  little  Pat,  though  it's  raurther  for 


"UN 


SBOHBIIini 


114 


GEMS  OF  THE  BOG. 


me,  poor  distracted  lad  that  I  am,  witliout  a 
heart  in  me  bussum  !    Oboo  !  boo  !  boo !  " 

"  And  wbo  can  tell,  Paddy,  but  tbo  cbild's 
innocent  prattle  may  win  yer  mastbcr  away 
from  bis  frolics  with  thim  outidy  urcliiiis 
across  the  road?  He's  such  a  loon  about 
childcr,  the  poor,  foolish  man!  We'll  kape 
tlie  boy  that  swate  and  clano  that  the  very 
minister  himself  could  take  him  on  his  knee 
and  kiss  him." 

"Dado  will  ye,"  replied  Paddy,  looking 
proudly  at  the  pretty,  bright  boy.  "But 
what  about  the  religion,  though?"  he  asked, 
as  the  disadvantages  of  the  offer  began  to  sug- 
gest themselves.  "  His  riverence  will  bate  the 
life  out  o'  me  if  I  suffer  him  to  be  tached  yon 
'Simbly's  Catechism  and  the  ten  Protestajit 
commandmints." 

"  Paddy,  if  we  takes  1  'm  for  our  child,  he'll 
be  namei  Johnny  Sheehan,  and  the  priest  will 
have  no  more  to  say  aboot  him  nor  he  does 
aboot  Mr.  Murray's  boys.  And  Paddy,  I 
belave  yer  bearin'  false  witness  agin  Father* 


am,  witliout  a 
30 !  hoo!" 
jut  tho  child's 
masthcr  away 
jutidy  urchins 
a  loon  about 
!  We'll  kape 
that  the  very 
ax  on  his  knee 

?addy,  looking 
\,  boy.  "But 
I  ?  "  he  asked, 
r  began  to  sug- 
30  will  bate  the 
be  tachcd  you 
tea  Protostapt 

our  child,  he'll 
I  the  priest  will 
im  nor  he  does 
And  Paddy,  I 
ss  agin  Father* 


FAMINE  AND  DEATH. 


115 


Clakcy.  Ycr  masther  will  tell  him  whin  nixt 
he  gocH  by,  that  we've  taken  little  Pat  for  our 
child,  and  had  him  new  named." 

So  little  Pat  was  stripped  of  his  beggar's 
garb,  dressed  like  a  farmer's  child,  and  i)laced 
on  a  high  stool  of  John's  manufacture,  at  the 
table.  Ho  at  once  began  to  call  Peggy  "  mam- 
my," and  John  "  daddy ; "  and  being  almost  a 
stranger  to  his  father,  he  now  called  him 
"  Paddy  Mannon,"  as  every  body  else  did> 
Whenever  John  came  in  from  the  field  the 
little  fellow  would  run  to  meet  him  ;  and  when 
he  was  seated  in  the  cottage,  he  would  climb 
on  his  knee,  and  putting  his  arms  round  his 
nock,  call  liira  "  pretty  daddy,"  and  ask,  "  May 
mo  ride  donkey  ?  What  did  old  donkey 
say  ?  "  Then  John  would  tell  long  stories  of 
what  tho  donkeys,  cows  and  ducks  asked  about 
"  the  now  little  lambie  that  had  come  to.  the 
cottage,  with  black  wool  on  his  head  and  red 
roses  on  his  checks ! "  John  taught  him  to 
count,  and  to  tell  the  names  of  coin,  and  to 
whistle ;  Peggy  taught  him  tho  command- 
ments, and   the   words  of  Jesus,  "  Suffer  tho 


116 


OEMS  OF  THE  BOG. 


li 
V, 

I 


little  children  to  come  unto  Me,  for  of  such  is  the 
kingdom  of  heaven."  Before  ho  had  been 
there  a  week,  whistles,  tin  carts,  a  jumping- 
jack  and  a  drum,  —  trifles  which  liad  never 
before  found  tlieir  way  to  Killyrooko,  were 
scattered  over  Peggy's  kitchen-floor,  and  John 
never  went  to  town  but  he  brought  homo  sonio 
toy,  about  as  new-  and  surprising  to  him  and 
Paddy  as  to  the  boy.  All  three  agreed  tliat  a 
child  was  a  wonderful  thing  for  making  sun- 
shine in  a  cottage. 

One  day,  before  poor  Meg  had  been  a  week 
in  her  grave,  Peggy  went  out  of  the  cottage, 
leading  little  Johnny  by  the  hand,  to  feed  the 
poultry.  As  she  neared  the  stile  which,  led 
from  the  garden  into  a  barley-field,  she  saw 
Paddy  mounted  on  the  topmost  rail,  mending 
his  corduroy  breeches  with  a  darning  needle 
and  twine,  and  singing,  with  the  full  power  of 
his  lungs  —  and  that  is  saying  a  great  deal  — 

••  Norra  is  a  fine  gerl, 

Cbakcs  liko  the  rose,  ,  , 

People  tbiiik  t:Ue  is  the  quane, 

Every  wliere  slic  goes! 

O,  tlio  flower  of  Tippcrary!  •• 


f  such  is  tho 
3  lidd  been 
a  jumpiiig- 
liad  never 
rooko,  were 
r,  and  John 
.  home  some 
to  him  and 
;reed  that  a 
aaking  sun- 
been  a  week 
the  cottage, 
,  to  feed  tho 
0  which,  led 
3ld,  she  saw 
ail,  mending 
'ning  needle 
ill  power  of 
-cat  deal  — 


srary!" 


"  0,  Paddy,  Paddy,"  cried  Peggy,  «  that's 
puroly  not  ye,  singing  yon  foolish  song  !  What 
were  ye  and  the  priest  doin'  but  a  few  days 
agonc  in  tho  churchyard  ?" 

"  Ilooly  nu)tlier !  "  cried  Paddy,  springing 
from  tlie  stile  and  throwing  up  both  hands  in 
surprise,  "  Sure  I'd  forgot  ontirely  that  Meg 
was  dead  at  all !  Ye  don't  think,  dear  mis- 
thress,  that  she'll  come  back  to  haunt  me  for 
singin'  aboot  the  'Flower  o'  Tipperary '  ?  Be- 
lavo  mo  that  I've  not  at  all  made  up  me  mind 
aboot  another  wife  yet,  or  even  whether  I'll 
take  one  or  not ;  and  why  would  I,  miserable 
man  that  I  am,  when  the  wide  warld  hasn't 
another  like  lier  ?  Where  would  I  iver  find 
one  so  strong  as  she,  that  would  nivor  ask  me 
for  the  price  o'  a  peck  o'  male  in  the  year, 
but  take  all  the  care  o'  hersilf  and  her  boy, 
and  buy  all  my  tobaccy  beside !  Oohoo ! 
Oohoo !  How'U  I  iver  live  in  the  arth 
without  me  jewel  Meg?"  and  he  wrung  his 
hands,  and  wept  and  groaned  pitoously. 
i  His  grief,  however,  was  soon  spent,  and  he 
sprang  up  on  tho  stilo  again  and  resumed  his 


n! 


118 


GKM8  OF  THE  BOO. 


mending  with  as  much  spirit  as  if  no  great 
SOI  row  was  on  him.  Paddy  loved  his  friends 
Avhilo  they  were  with  him,  but  "out  of  sight" 
they  were  soon  "  out  of  mind,"  and  he  was  as 
jolly  and  contented  as  if  he  had  never  known 
them. 

Peggy  suflFered  some  anxiety  about  the  com- 
panions with  whom  little  Johnny  would 
mingle  when  he  could  no  longer  be  kept  at 
her  side.  Her  heart  shrank  from  his  hearing 
an  oath  or  witnessing  the  brawls  of  the  neigh- 
boring children.  Nan,  who  had  not  yet  been 
murdered  by  her  parents,  as  she  had  predicted 
she  would  be,  often  brought  over  her  mother's 
baby,  a  bright,  plump  creature,  neat  to  a 
marvel,  for  him,  to  play  with  Johnny,  and 
occasionally  took  her  seat,  uninvited,  at  the 
supper-table.  This,  of  course,  yexed  Peggy,  . 
but  she  bore  it  meekly,  bei..g  too  much  afraid 
of  Nan  to  forbid  her  visits. 

The  good  woman's  fears  for  little  Johnny's 
future  were  all  needless.  For  one  short  year 
he  made  sunshine  in  the  cottage,  and  then 
came  a  sickuoss  which  gave  no  alarm  till  too 


.iuatriiinniac " 


if  no  great 
I  his  friends 
ut  of  sight" 
d  he  was  as 
never  known 

»ut  the  com- 
hnny  would 
V  be  kept  at 
his  hearing 
)f  the  noigh- 
iiot  yet  been 
ad  predicted 
lier  mother's 
,  neat  to  a 
Johnny,  and 
vited,  at  the 
exed  Peggy,  . 
much  afraid 

;tle  Johnny's 
0  short  year 
ro,  and  then 
ilarm  till  too 


late  for  help ,  and  soon  his  prattle  was  hushed 
in  doath.     And  again  the  cottage  was  silent. 

Peggy  wept  as  if  Jier  heart  would  break ; 
and  yet  she  blamed  John  for  his  boisterous 
grief,  saying,  "Don't  let  yer  neighbors  say, 
dear,  that  ye  wail  louder  for  a  beggar's  baby 
iior  for  yer  own  holy  mother!  Thank  God 
with  me,  John,  that  the  little  darlin's  safe 
with  Himself,  rather  than  us  taken  and  him 
left  in  the  hands  o'  poor,  careless  Paddy. 
Heaven  will  bo  more  liko  our  home,  John, 
now  that  we've  both  our  mother  and  our  child 
there." 

Heaven  was  to  John  a  place  very  far  off; 
and  he  gave  little  thought  to  it  —  or,  indeed, 
to  any  thing  beyond  his  home-work  and  his 
crops.  So,  after  a  sad  week  or  two,  he  was 
the  same  as  before  ho  had  found  and  lost  the 
child.  . 

Wliile  John  and  Peggy  were  weeping  over 
the  little  cold  form  lying  on  Mammy  Honey's 
bed  —  now  a  sacred  place  —  Paddy  was  flying 
about  with  an  excited  business  air,  making 
arrangements  for  the  funeral,  and  comforting 


'  >. 


"    l\ 


1'30 


GEMS  OF  THE  BOO. 


Peggy  and  John  as  if  lie  lilinsclf  had  no  part 
iu  the  afllicliou.  He  had  given  the  child 
away,  therefore  his  death  wus  nothing  which 
particularly  concerned  hira. 


Iiad  no  part 
t  the  child 
thing  which 


CHAPTER   XI. 


A  QBEAT   SOBROW. 


"VrOT  a  week  had  passed,  after  the  death  of 
11  little  Johnny,  when  Paddy  saw  his  mas- 
ter tossing  coppers  among  the  little  O'Gor- 
mans,  and  stepping  up  behind  him,  said, 
"Yo'd  better  quit  that,  Marsther  John. 
Remember  what  ye  promised  by  the  deathbed 
o'  yer  mother,  and  kapo  clare  o'  the  villyaus 
altogether." 

«  Yer  right,  Paddy,  I'll  do  that,"  replied 
John,  "  and  not  grieve  poor  Peggy,  that  likes 
the  whole  race  so  ill." 

Peggy  had  had  but  little  time  to  weep  for 
Johnny,  when  a  message  came  by  the  post- 
chaise  that  Mammy  Honey's  sister,  an  aged 
and  friendless  woman,  lay  on  her  deathbed ; 
and  begging  that  Peggy  would  come  to  her  at 

'^<---  -.-  191     " 


i'i 


i.i 


■P**"^' 


122 


GEMS  OF  THE  BOO. 


once.  Seventy  miles  away  !  It  seemed  to  her 
as  far,  and  attended  with  as  many  dangers,  as 
a  voyage  round  the  world  would  to  us.  But 
duty  called  ;  and  so  the  timid  woman  prepared 
to  face  the  world,  and  make  her  way  to  Bal- 
dorgan. 

John  and  Paddy  both  promised  her  to 
attend  faithfully  to  the  kitchen  and  the  dairy 
till  her  return  ;  and,  with  some  misgivings  as 
to  the  fate  of  the  poultry,  Peggy  set  off,  weep- 
ing at  the  thought  of  leaving  her  "  ilegant 
home  and  John,"  even  for  a  few  weeks. 

"  Now,  Paddy,"  she  said,  as  he  grasped  her 
hand  at  parting,  "  mind  I  bid  yo  be  tinder  and 
respictful  to  all  the  cows  when  yo're  a  milkin', 
but  partic'lar  to  the  Maid  o'  Longford ;  for  yo 
know  that  ye'ro  often  impatient  when  she  lifts 
her  foot,  and  spakos  in  ways  that  hurts  her 
feclin's." 

«« I'll  bear  that  in  mind,  thin,"  said  Paddy, 
"  and  good  luck  go  with  yo  and  bring  ye  spady 

home." 

For  four  weeks    Peggy  ministered  to  her 
aged  fricud  before  she  died,  and  thea  followed 


R 


enied  to  hor 
dangers,  as 
to  us.  But 
an  prepared 
way  to  Bal- 

sed  her  to 
id  the  dairy 
lisgivings  as 
et  off,  weep- 
er "  ilogant 
seks. 

grasped  her 
0  tinder  and 
re  a  milkin', 
;ford ;  for  yo 
lien  she  liflts 
it  hurts  her 

said  Paddy, 
•ing  ye  spady 

tored  to  her 
.hea  followed 


A  ORE  AT  SORROW. 


118 


her  to  the  grave,  a  solitary  mounior  She 
ahuost  flew  at  tlie  tliought  of  home,  now  that 
bIic  was  released.  JSIjo  could  not  wait  twenty- 
four  hours  for  the  post-chaise  that  passed 
through  the  village  where  she  was,  but  walked 
five  hours  to  meet  one  which  went  sooner  from 
the  next  town.  All  the  way  along  the  dusty 
road  she  was  drawing  bright  pictures  of  her 
home,  whicli  never  seemed  so  beautiful  to  her 
as  when  absent  from  it ;  and  her  heart  beat 
proudly  at  the  thought  of  the  Welcome  await- 
ing her.  Tlio  post-chaise  stopped  at  Cloyn- 
mally,  and  she  had  then  a  long  walk  to  Killy- 
rooke,  for  no  letter  had  announced  hor 
coming.  It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  when 
she  opened  the  rude  gate  that  led  into  the 
garden  ;  and,  seeing  Ihe  cottage  door  open,  she 
concluded  tliat  John  was  at  home,  and  stopped 
very  lightly,  Ijoping  to  give  him  a  joyful  sur- 
prise. Slie  was  suddenly  startled  by  what  she 
fancied  to  be  the  hum  of  Mammy  Honey's  flax 
wheel!  She  stopped,  and  whispered,  "  Can  it 
bo  that  she's  come  back  to  watch  over  him  she 
loved,  when  I'm  away  ?    But  there's  the  voice 


I 


I 


124 


OEMS  OF  THE  BOO. 


though ! 


Not  the  holy  song  o'  heaven, 
Och,  my  heart !  my  heart !  " 
Entering  the  cottage,  she  saw  a  spectacle 
which  scut  the  blood  from  her  cheek  and  lips 
back  to  her  heart ;  and,  almost  fainting,  she 
sank  into  the  nearest  chair  and  dropped  her 
hands  helplessly  at  her  sides. 

There,  at  "  yon  blissed  little  flax-wheel,"  sat 
Nan  O'Gorman,  spinning,  and  singing  — 

••  The  world's  a  bid  o'  rosea. 
With  nivor  ft  thorn  for  me." 

Peggy  only  groaned  ;  for  tlic  power  of  utter- 
ance was  gone.  She  fixed  her  eyes  on  Nau, 
and  had  not  strength  to  remove  them,  much  as 
she  strove  to  do  so. 

The  brazen  face  flushed  under  hor  gaze,  and 
Nan  said,  "  Don't  be  goin'  wild,  now,  Peggy, 
because  a  poor  abused  girl  has  taken  shelter 
beneath  the  ruff"  where  ye'vo  had  years  o* 
plinty.  Ye  hadn't  a  home  always ;  and  the 
copy-book  o'  the  schoolmasther  says,  '  Turn 
aboot  is  fair  play.'  And  don't  be  blamin' 
John,  ather,  for  it's  not  by  his  askin'  but  o' 
my  own  will  tj^at  I'm  here  kapin'  his  house 


miii 


A  GREAT  SORROW. 


125 


o'  hcavon, 
t!" 

a  spectacio 
3ck  and  lips 
aintiug,  she 
J  popped  her 

-wheel,"  sat 
iug  — 


«rer  of  utter- 
yrcs  oil  Nau, 
im,  much  as 

t 

3r  gaze,  and 
now,  Peggy, 
laken  shelter 
lad  years  o* 
ys ;  and  the 


says, 


Turn 


be  blainin' 
iskin'  but  o' 
u'  his  house 


and  cookin'  his  food  in  ycr  absiiico.  Indado, 
ho  bid  mo  away  at  the  first,  but  ycrsclf  knows 
rinnotcisy  disposed  of "  — and  sl>c  lauglicd. 
"  Paddy  Mannon,  that  loves  ye  more  nor  he 
docs  the  Virgin,  has  refused  to  ate  wliat  I 
cooks,  and  biles  his  own  porridge  beside  tlio 
old  cow-liouse.  So  it's  none  o'  his  doin's,  but 
all  my  own.  I'll  work  under  your  hand, 
Peggy,  and  lot  yo  still  bo  the  misthrcss ;  but 
Tm  to  bide  here;  tljat's  settled,  and  it's  not  in 
ycr  power  to  drive  me  off!  Are  yo  turned  to 
stone,  Peggy  ?  Yo  scare  me  witli  yer  wild 
eyes  and  yer  wliite  face." 

"  Nan,"  replied  Peggy,  faintly,  « tho  same 
thatch  can  nivor  cover  ye  and  mo !  May  God 
forgivo  ye  as  free  as  Ho  pities  me  this  day !  " 

She  tlien  rose,  and  witli  an  unsteady  step 
passed  tlu-ough  the  garden  towards  tho  old 
cow-liouse,  where  she  found  Paddy  making  a 
peat  fire  on  a  pile  of  stones,  to  cook  his 
supper. 

Wlien  he  saw  her,  he  turned  away  his  face  as 
if  ho  could  not  meet  her  eyes;  and  bursting 
into  tears,  he   sobbed   out.  "  Ocli,  och  !   that 


¥ 


I 


1  ' 


126  GEMS  OF  THE  BOG. 

was  an  evil  day  when  yc  left  us  and  quit 
watchin'  him!  The  sarpint  with  the  human 
face  is  crawlin'  round  ycr  kitchen  ;  but  as  sure 
as  I'm  Paddy  Mannon  I'll  give  it  a  blow  that'll 
send  it  out,  if  yo'll  bide  aisy  till  I  docs  it !  " 

«  No,  Paddy,  if  she  do  not  depart  this  night, 
I  will  on  the   morrow.     Why  ever  did   God 
take  Mammy  Honey  to  heaven  when  she  was 
so  sore  naded  on  arth !    But  He's  wilcome  to 
her,  for  all.    I'll  not  grudge  her  to  Him,  nor 
yet  will  I  resist  the  rod  in   His  ha»»d!     0, 
Paddy,  it  was  well  this  didn't  come  afore  I  got 
the  great  light  in  my  soul !    Himself  was  de- 
spised and  rcjicted  o'  men,  and  why  not  me, 
His    unworthy    disciple?     Himself   hadn't    a 
where  to  lay  His  head,  and  why  should  I  have 
this  lovely  home  ?    I  remembers  how  he  drank 
the  vinegar  and  gall,  and  I'll  just  drink  it  too, 
'stead  o'  deraandin'  the  swate  milk  I've  had  so 
long.    Dear  Mr.  Murray  said  God  was  fillin' 
my  soul  with  Himself  to  prepare  me  for  some 
great  thing  — little  I  dreamed    o'   this!    If 
John  was  dead  and  lyin'  beside   the   darlin' 
mother,  what  joy  would  fill  my  heart,  aside  o' 


IS  and  q\iit 
tho  Imiiiau 
but  as  sure 
blow  that'll 
iocs  it !  " 
•t  tliis  uigl>t, 
'cr  did   God 
len  slio  was 
I  wilcomo  to 
to  Him,  nor 
I   ha»»d !     O, 
3  aforo  I  got 
Qself  was  do- 
why  not  mo, 
If   hadn't    a 
hould  I  have 
low  he  drank 
drink  it  too, 
c  I've  had  so 
)d  was  fiUin' 
me  for  some 
o'   this!    If 
3   the   darlin' 
eart,  aside  o' 


A  GREAT  SORROW. 


Iff 


losin'  him  this  way  — soul  and  all.  But  IIo 
opened  not  His  mouth,  and  nather  will  I.  I'll 
not  add  sin  to  sorrow  by  holding  words  with 
any  aboot  it ;  but  strive  to  lane  my  soul  on 
God,  who  is  the  husband  o'  the  widow  —  and 
I'm  a  widow,  now,  Paddy !  " 

Still  Paddy  sobl)ed,  but  managed  to  tell  his 
mistress  how  he  had  abused  the  usurper,  taunt- 
ing her  with  all  the  evil  he  had  ever  heard  of 
her  race,  "from  her  great-grandfather,  who 
was  a  poacher,  to  her  uncle,  who  was  'mi- 
grated off  to  Australy."  He  told  hew  he,  in 
virtue  of  his  prophetic  office  as  serpent-slayer, 
had  taken  Nan  by  the  shoulder  the  day  she 
came,  and  put  her  out  o'  doors,  and  got  his 
eyes  nearly  scratched  out  in  return,  which  con- 
vinced him  that  he  could  do  nothing  at  present 
but  "  make  up  grimaces  behind  her  back  — 
which  same  was  a  relief  to  himself,  though  no 
harm  to  her." 

Not  a  tear  moistened  Peggy's  eye,  but  her 
anguish  betrayed  itself  in  her  pallid  face  and 
her  hoarse,  tremulous  tones.  Looking  at  the 
sinking  sun,  she  said,  "  Paddy,  I'll  sit  down  in 


ffefeigwi 


;       ' 


128 


GEMS  OF  THE  BOO. 


the  cow-house  till  yer  supper's  done.  Then  go 
ye  for  the  cows,  for  I'm  homesick  to  see  the 
dear  craturs  —  thorn,  without  the  light  o'  rea- 
son or  holy  tachiu',  is  faithful  to  mo  still." 

To  show  his  devotion,  tho  weeping  Paddy 
threw  his  suppur  violently  on  the  ground,  de- 
claring that  ho  was  "  not  the  man  to  ate  cou- 
tint  when  the  life  was  bein'  crushed  out  o'  his 
misthross!"  And  taking  a  great  shilalah, 
which  he  carried  to  fight  imaginary  foes,  ho 
set  off  for  the  pasture.  Peggy  remained  mo- 
tionless, as  if  bound  by  a  feariul  spell,  save 
that  now  and  then  she  lifted  her  eyes  lieavou- 
ward,  and  whispered  a  prayer  for  support  and 
comfort. 

Peggy  was  aroused  from  the  stupor  of 
anguish  by  heavy  foot-falls  on  the  sward,  as 
Paddy  drew  near  with  his  charge.  He  was 
still  weeping  bitterly  and  telling  the  cows, 
between  his  sobs,  that  a  black  cloud  had  fallen 
on  Daisy  Farm,  and  that  the  saints  were  all 
forsakin'  it  and  lavin'  it  in  the  hands  o'  a  sar- 
pint  o'  a  woman  and  a  goose  o'  a  man.  "  And 
only  for  ye,  dear  cows,"  he  said,  "  Pd  go  too, 


J 


A  GREAT  SORROW. 


129 


0.    Then  go 
Ic  to  SCO  tho 
light  o'  rea- 
10  still." 
(ping  Paddy 
ground,  de- 
i  to  ato  con- 
d  out  o'  his 
lat    shilalah, 
lary  foes,  ho 
?inained  mo- 
l  spell,  save 
eyes  heaven- 
support  and 

0  stupor  of 
he  sward,  as 
go.  He  was 
ig  the  cows, 
ud  had  fallen 
ints  were  all 
lands  o'  a  sar- 
i  man.  "  And 
"  I'd  go  too, 


and  follow  tlie  kind  misthress  all  over  the 
world,  and  aru  her  bread  for  her.  Slie's  afeared 
to  look  at  a  stranger,  but  Paddy  Mannon  is  not 
—  nor  a  hundred  o'  'era." 

Peggy  rose  up  as  the  cows  approached  her, 
and  throwing  her  arms  around  the  neck  of  a 
silver-gray  cow,  tl«e  "  Maid  o'  Longford," 
Avhich  had  been  Mammy  Honey's  last  gift  to 
her,  she  burst  into  a  flood  of  blessed  tears.  She 
pressed  )icr  chock  against  the  silvery  neck  and 
said,  "  Och,  little  ye  knows,  innocent  thing,  o' 
my  sorrow !  I,  tliat  has  fed  ye  so  free,  has 
notliing  to  ato  myself!  I,  that  has  loved  ye  so 
tinderly,  has  not  a  one  in  all  the  world  to  lovo 
mo !  Ye  don't  know  that  ye  are  no  longer 
mine  —  that  ye'll  see  me  no  more,  nor  hear  my 
soft  voice  that  niver  give  yo  a  hasty  word, — 
Oclj,  my  poor  heart ! "' 

"  Will  ye  tak'  a  stool  and  milk  her  ? "  asked 
Paddy. 

"  No,  Paddy,  there's  nather  power  in  my 
hand  nor  yet  in  my  heart  for  that,"  Peggy 
re[tlied  ;  *'  but  I'll  look  at  ye  doin'  it,  and  say 
what  I'd  like  while  we're  alone.     Ye  have  iver 

0 


130 


OEMS  OF  THE  BOO. 


been  a  faithful  boy  to  rao,  and  nivor  onco  garo 
mo  an  omispictful  word.  I'd  wish  to  thank  ye 
for  all  yor  love  in  tho  past.  Yo'ro  the  only 
friend  I  have  now,  Paddy,  that  I  can  spake  to. 
Ycr  niasthor  promised  God  and  his  mother  that 
he'd  stand  'twixt  mc  and  throublc  while  he  had 
life  in  him.  But  now  it  is  himself  that's  put  a 
Bpear  in  my  heart !  Peggy  Shoohan's  not  tho 
woman  to  'bide  in  a  house  and  quarrel ;  and 
iiathor  is  she  the  one  to  stand  silent  and  sec 
her  husband's  heart  stole  from  hor  and  his 
honor  destroyed  ontircly  !  Ye  can  do  mo  one 
more  service,  Paddy  dear,"  —  she  had  never 
addressed  him  thus  before  —  "  and  may  be  it'll 
be  tho  last  yer  poor  friend  will  over  ask." 

"  And  what's  that,  misthress,  darlin'  Y  I  hope 
it's  to  murther  Nan,  and  then  fly  off  to  Ameriky 
or  some  other  pagan  country !  " 

"  No,  Paddy ;  do  her  no  evil ;  lave  hor  with 
God,"  answered  Peggy.  "  Pd  wish  ye  to  be 
at  tho  gate  to-morrow  morning  afore  the  sun 
peeps  over  tho  bog,  to  meet  mo.  And  mind, 
yo're  nivor  to  spake  my  name  to  himself  till  tli" 
day  comes  when  his  heart  is  broke  for  his  sins 


""Uti 


ftM 


A  GREAT  SORROW. 


131 


r  onco  garo 
to  thank  ye 
ro  the  only 
n  spake  to. 
mother  that 
trhilo  ho  had 
that's  put  a 
m's  not  tiio 
uarrel ;  and 
3nt  and  see 
lior  and  his 
[1  do  mo  one 
5  had  never 
may  bo  it'll 
)r  ask." 
ilin'  'i  I  hope 
F  to  A  me  r  iky 

TO  her  with 
sh  ye  to  be 
fore  the  sun 
And  mind, 
rnself  till  tlm 
)  for  hiH  sins 


agin  God  and  his  poor  lovin'  wife.  Mind  what 
I  say,  Paddy,  my  name  is  a  forbidden  word ! 
I'd  wish  ye  to  do  ycr  duty  to  yer  raasther  and 
to  the  craturs  ;  but  it'll  bo  a  great  comfort  to 
me  if  yo'll  still  'bide  in  the  cow-house  and  not 
countenance  yon  cruel  woman  when  I'm  gone." 

"  I'll  starvre  first !  But  where  are  ye  goin'  ? 
Ye've  not  a  friend  or  a  kin  left  that  ye  can 
make  free  with,  now  that  the  old  Doaues  is 
dead,"  replied  Paddy. 

"  I  have  health  yet,  and  can  toil  even  with  a 
broken  heart,  Paddy.  I'll  seek  a  sarvico  place, 
for  I  could  niver  live  where  John  war  not 
honored  and  rispected.  And  now  I  must  gather 
heart  to  go  into  tho  cottage,  for  I  must  turn 
keys  on  a  few  things  not  to  be  touched  by  on- 
holy  hands.'' 

"  Keys ! "  cried  Paddy,  scorn''ully.  "  What's 
thim  good  for  when  the  likes  o'  her's  about? 
Didn't  she  wear  Mammy  Honey's  best  shawl  to 
Ned  Givin's  wake  the  last  week  ?  And  hasn't 
tho  old  mother  the  duffel  gray  cloak  over  there 
now ! "  *. 

Poggy  throw  up    her  hands  and    uttered  a 


r 


ilH  t 


i^ 


132 


OEMS  OF  THE  BOG. 


sharp  cry;  then  clasping  thcin  tightly  over 
her  heart  she  said  imploringly,  "  Please,  dear 
man,  tell  me  no  more,  or  I'll  be  driven  wild 
and  lose  my  hold  on  God!  It's  all  over 
with  my  happiness  in  this  world ;  but  I'm  a 
small  cretur'  to  be  thinkin'  of,  when  John's 
Boul  is  at  stake,  and  all  KiUyrooko  setting  tliis 
great  sin  down  agin  our  blissed  religion  and 
stumbling  over  it ! " 

Poggy  rose  to  go  into  the  cottage.  As  she 
turned  the  corner  of  the  cow-house,  she  saw 
John  standing  there  as  if  waiting  for  her.  She 
did  not  raise  her  eyes ;  but  ho  joined  her,  and 
after  a  moment's  silence  said,  »  Ye're  welcome 

home,  Peggy." 

Still  she  did  not  speak,  but  her  deathly 
countenance  betrayed,  the  struggle  going  on 
within.  "  Jewel,"  ho  said,  after  a  great  effort, 
"  this  is  none  o'  my  doin's.  She  came  into  the 
cottage  the  day  after  ye  left,  for  shelter  from 
the  abuse  o'  her  mother.  And  once  hero,  she 
took  all  into  her  hands !  She  would  nathor  go 
for  my  beggin'  nor  yet  for  Paddy's  abuse  ;  but 
now  ye  are  come  back  to  us  as  are  the  mistliress, 


^IL, 


A   QUE  AT  SORPOVr. 


lU 


tightly  over 
Please,  dear 
driven  wild 
t's  all  over 
;  but  I'm  a 
rlieu  John's 
I  setting  tltis 
religion  and 

ago.  As  sho 
use,  sho  saw 
[qv  her.  Slio 
ned  her,  and 
e'ro  welcome 

hor  deathly 
glo  going  on 
\  great  effort, 
jamo  into  tho 

shelter  from 
nee  hero,  she 
iild  nathor  go 
r's  abuse  ;  but 
tho  niisthress, 


ye  can  send  her  off  yerself.  Ye  know,  Peggy, 
Pm  a  great  sheep,  and  could  never  spake  a 
rough  word  to  a  woman  —  though  she  were  an 
evil  one." 

Peggy  found  breath  to  say,  "  No,  John,  I 
shall  never  bid  her  away !  My  neighbors  shall 
not  see  mo  doing  what  my  husband  should  do, 
and  then  taunt  mo  with  it !  And  more  nor 
tliat,  I  doubt  if  even  ye  can  drive  her  out  now. 
She  tolls  me  ye  have  promised  her  a  home, 
wliinever  sho  wills  to  'bide  here !  And  the 
same  thatch  couldn't  cover  us  two !  O,  John, 
John,  why  did  Mammy  Honey  lay  that  fearful 
cliurge  on  me,  when  she'  said,  '  Bring  him  to 
mo  at  last ;  I'll  expect  tliat  of  ye,  Peggy.'  " 

And  saying  this,  sho  closed  her  eyes  and 
passed  through  the  kitclicn,  whore  Nan  was 
singing  as  sho  spread  the  simple  board  for  sup- 
per, into  her  mother's  little  room,  and  drew 
tho  wooden  bolt  behind  hor.  Sho  threw  herself 
into  tho  rude  oaken  chair,  laid  hor  cheek  on 
tho  pillow,  and  gave  way  to  a  flood  of  tears, 
mingled  with  pruyOiS  to  Heaven  for  strength. 
Her  plaintive  tones,  echoing  through  tho  low 


f 


134 


GEMS  OF  Tim  BOO. 


rooms  of  tho  cottage,  were  enough   to  melt  a 
heart  of  stone.- 

John  followed  her  to  tho  door ;  hut  he  was 
too  great  a  coward,  —  sin  makes  even  the 
bravest  men  cowards,  —  to  ask  her  pardon,  and 
thrust  the  intruder  forth.  Ho  stood  there 
weeping  ;  and  when  called,  ho  refused  to  eat  his 
supper.  He  spoke  harshly  to  Nan,  asking  her 
if  she  were  not  ashamed  to  turn  a  pure-hearted 
wife  out  of  her  own  house.  But  she  only 
laughed  in  his  face,  and  replied  that  she  was 
quite  willingto  allow  Peggy  back,  and  had  even 
offeref*  to  let  her  be  mistress  still ! 

All  night  John  sat  in  the  kitchen  or  walked 
tho  floor,  listening  to  the  sobs  and  prayers  of 
his  wife,  planning  reforms  to  begin  with  tho 
light,  and  promising  to  atone  with  redoubled 
kindness  for  his  faithlessness  and  cruelty. 
Alas,  poor,  irresolute  man !  Ho  did  not  take 
into  account  his  own  weakness,  nor  the  strength 
of  the  foe ;  nor  yet  was  ho  prepared  for  tho 
courage  with  which  Christian  principle  and 
womanly  pride  had  armed  tho  timid  creature 
he  bad  so  deeply  wronged.  ^ 


I   to  melt  a 


;  but  he  was 
s  even  the 
pardon,  and 
stood  there 
cd  to  cat  his 
I,  asking  her 
pure-licarted 
fc  she  only 
lat  she  was 
nd  had  even 

n  or  walked 
i  prayers  of 
;iu  with  the 
;h  redoubled 
md  cruelty, 
lid  not  take 
the  strength 
tared  for  the 
rinciple  and 
aid   creature 


CHAPTER  XII. 


HOMELESS. 


AT  break  of  day  Peggy  looked  out  of  the 
little  glass  window,  — the  pride  of  the 
cottage,  —  and  saw  Paddy  leaning  against  the 
gate,  awaiting  her.  She  waved  her  handker- 
chief to  him,  and  he  approached  her  with 
swollen  eyes,  whicli  tol  how  little  ho  had  slept 
and  how  much  he  had  wept.  She  passed  to 
him  her  little  blue  box  or  trunk,  the  only 
thing  she  had  brought  with  her  to  her  new 
homo  when  a  bride.  It  now  contained  the  few 
articles  of  clothing  she  had  bought  with  her 
own  spinning-money;  for  she  shrank  from 
taking  any  tiling  given  her  by  John,  now  that 
he  had  suffered  the  serpent  with  a  human  face 
to  "  put  a  space  between  their  two  hearts." 

This    done,    the    meek    creature    passed 
through  the  kitchen,  —  where  John  still  sat 

135 


136 


GEMS  OF  THE  BOO. 


II 


sleeping,  —  without  stirring  tlio  air.  SIio 
dared  not  look  at  him,  lest  her  strength  might 
fail  her. 

Before  she  joined  Paddy  at  the  gate,  she 
went  round  to  the  glass  window  and  plucked  a 
sprig  of  the  sweet  brier  tliat  overhung  it. 
This  she  pressed  for  a  moment  to  her  lips,  and 
then  laid  it  in  the  folds  of  a  fresh  handker- 
chief and  hid  it  in  her  bosom  like  a  "  charm." 

As  Peggy  looked  at  her  poor  friend,  an  in- 
voluntary smile  passed  over  her  pale  face.  IIo 
had  dressed  himself  in  Daddy  Slioehan's 
clothes,  to  honor  the  occasion,  and  was  almost 
buried  in  them.  "  Dear  man,'  she  exclaimed, 
"  why  do  ye  make  such  a  figure  o'  yersilf 
when  I  cannot  laugh  as  I  once  did  at  ye  ! 
I've  told  yo  a  score  o'  times  to  take  you 
clotlies  to  Jock,  the  tailor,  and  have  them 
made  to  fit  ye.  Yo  look  like  a  harlequin !  " 
And  sj  he  did ;  for  tlie  tails  of  the  blue  coat 
barely  cleared  the  ground,  and  the  pockets 
behind,  graced  with  huge  brass  buttons,  woro 
a  foot  and  a  half  below  their  proper  place. 
The  breeches  were  pushed  up  in  grout  lieavy 


HOMELESS. 


137 


air.     SIio 
iiigth  might 

le  gate,  she 
d  plucked  a 
vcrhung  it. 
jcr  lips,  and 
ih  haudlcer- 
a  "  charm." 
'lend,  an  in- 

0  face.     IIo 
Shochan's 

was  almost 

1  exclaimed, 
e  o'  yersilf 

did  at  ye  ! 
0  take  you 

have  them 
larlequiu ! " 
le  blue  coat 
the  pockets 
iittons,  wore 
roper  place, 
groat  liouvy 


folds  to  make  them  short  enough  to  hackle  at 
the  knee,  and  the  sleeves  were  rolled  half  way 
to  the  elbow.  "  Why  don't  ye  do  my  biddin* 
about  the  clothes  ?  "  she  repeated. 

"  Because  it  would  be  a  great  refiiction  on 
the  old  masther ;  the  same  as  sayiu'  he  didn't 
have  them  made  right  at  first!  And  more; 
if  they  fitted  me,  people  would  only  say,  *  See 
Paddy  Mannon's  new  shute ! ' ,  and  never 
think  o'  the  honor  that  was  haped  on  me  by 
gittin'  them  willed  to  me.  Now  they  say, 
'  See  Paddy  Mannon  in  the  fine  ould  masther's 
Sunday  shute.  How  yon  family  honors  that 
lad ! '  'Dade  I'll  just  wear  them  as  they  is,  for 
his  sake  and  my  own,"  answered  Paddy. 

Paddy  shouldered  the  blue  box,  remarking, 
"  It's  a  dale  lighter  than  it  war  the  day  yo 
came  first  to  us,  and  I  lifted  it  out  o'  the 
new  donkey-cart." 

"  Yes,  poor  man,"  replied  Peggy,  "  I'm  like 
Naomi  o'  old  ;  I  came  in  here  full  o'  pros- 
perity and  blissed  with  hapes  o'  love,  but  I  go 
forth  empty  of  arthly  good  !  But  I'm  rich  for 
all  this,  Paddy !    I  feel  just  now  as  I  did  tho 


138 


GEifS  OF  THE  BOO. 


il 


%    V 


day  I  gave  Mammy  Honey  and  every  thing 
else  up  for  Christ's  sake !  The  great  peace 
lias  come  on  me  again  with  new  power.  I  can 
not  only  give  vip  mother,  and  house,  and  land, 
but  even  him  that's  dearer  nor  all,  at  the 
Master's  biddin'.  And  I'm  quite  contint  in 
belaviu'  that  the  Judge  o'  the  whole  arth  will 
do  right,  though  one  poor  heart  mar  break  by 
the  way  lie  does  it." 

"Well,  misthress,  darlin',*'  sobbed  Paddy, 
"  I'm  glad  yer  not  ravin'  wild  with  the  throu- 
ble,  but  I'd  be  better  plazed  if  ye'd  show  a 
little  more  sperit !  Spcrit  is  a  fine  thing  in  f* 
woman.  I'd  hoped  that  ye'd  bo  roused  up  a 
little  afore  ye  left,  so  that  ye'd  break  the  look- 
Mi'  glass,  and  the  windy,  and  the  red  and 
white  dishes,  and  burn  up  the  linen  that  them 
blissed  hands  spun  and  wove,  afore  she'd  eor 

joy  thim." 

"No,  Paddy,  there's  no  revinge  in  my 
heart;  but  only  sorrow  and  shame  for  the 
masther;  and  for  Nan  — well,  Heaven  pity 
her,  and  bring  her  to  repmtanco  aforo  death 
cornea." 


HOMELESS. 


139 


every  thing 
great  peace 
)wer.  I  can 
se,  and  land, 
all,  at  the 
)  contiut  in 
ole  artli  will 
aar  break  by 

ibbed  Paddy, 
\\  the  throu- 

ye'd  show  a 
ne  thing  in  ft 

roused  up  a 
eak  the  look- 
the  red  and 
en  that  them 
fore  she'd  en- 

einge    in  my 

lame    for  tlie 

Heaven   pity 

9  aforo  death 


"  What !  and  so  she  bo  let  into  heaven  ?  " 
exclaimed  Paddy.  "  I'll  not  put  a  foot  into  it 
myself  if  she's  there !  'Dade  Pll  not !  I 
thinks  too  much  o'  myself  to  be  in  ony  place 
where  she'll  be  !  " 

Peggy  had  no  time  now  for  either  instruc- 
tion or  controversy,  for  she  was  in  haste  to 
reach  Cloynmally,  where  a  wagoner  stopped 
on  his  way  to  the  distant  city.  She  chose  to 
ride  on  the  high  seat  with  him,  rather  than  in 
tlie  post-chaise,  where  she  would  have  to  look 
strangers  in  the  face,  and  hear  conversation 
which  might  distract  her  mind. 

As  they  came  up  to  the  little  Presbyterian 
church  and  burying-ground,  Peggy  said,  "  Yo 
sit  down  on  the  roadside  till  I  pluck  a  sham- 
rock blossom  off  the  grave,  and  thank  God  that 
He  tuk  her  to  Himself  from  the  evil  to  come. 
0,  Paddy,  liow  lovely  the  grave  looks !  And, 
dear  man,  I'll  trust  ye  to  bring  me  back  and 
lay  me  beside  her  if  I  dies  away." 

"  I'll  do  that  same,  even  if  ye'd  'migrate  to 
Ameriky,  and  I'd  have  to  wade  the  Atlantic 


140 


GE3rS  OF  THE  BOO. 


ocean  and  bring  yo  back  in  my  arms  — I'd  do 
it  —  wonld  I !  But  wherc'll  I  ever  find  ye  ?" 
"Paddy,  a  lady  tiiat  Mammy  Honey's  old 
sister  nursed  when  a  baby,  came  to  see  her, 
and  to  bring  the  pension  the  family  'lowed  her, 
when  I  was  there.  They  always  looked  after 
her  and  loved  her,  though  they  had  removed 
far  away.  The  lady  was  that  thankful  for  my 
tinderness  that  she  asked  rao  would  I  go  to  the 
great  city  with  her  and  mind  her  fable  ould 
mother  ?  I  told  her  I  had  no  nado  o'  sarvice, 
but  was  the  richest,  and  proudest,  and  hap- 
piest wife  in  our  town.  Slie'd  bo  to  make  me 
take  a  guinea  as  a  keepsake,  1  that,  with 
throe  Mammy  Honey  gave  i  ven   years 

agono  to  keep  agin  a  rainy  day,  is  what  I  has 
for  my  journey  now.  This  lady.  Miss  Grey, 
said,  at  partin', '  Well,  Misthress  Sheehan,  I'm 
glad  yc're  so  comfortable ;  but  none  knows 
what's  afore  'em  in  life.  If  yo  should  iver 
nadc  a  friend,  come  to  me.'  And  she  gave 
me  a  bit  o'  card  with  her  name  on't,  and  it's 
to  her  I'm  goin'." 


tjium 


^ 


nOMELESS. 


141 


irms  —  I'd  do 
or  find  ye  ?  " 

Honey's  old 

to  see  her, 
ly  'lowed  her, 
;  looked  after 
had  removed 
ankful  for  my 
Id  I  go  to  the 
icr  fable  ould 
do  o'  sarvice, 
est,  and  hap- 
c  to  make  me 

1  that,  with 

Ten   years 

is  what  I  has 

r,  Miss  Grey, 

Slieelian,  I'm 

none  knows 
e  should  iver 
knd  she  gave 
5  on't,  and  it's 


"  Give  mo  the  name  o'  her  place ;  and  after 
the  next  harvest  I'll  call  and  find  ye  out,  and 
8|)ind  a  week  with  ye.  May  bo  there  might  be 
a  horse-race  or  a  'fair'  aboot  tliat  time;  and 
if  so,  I'll  kill  two  birds  with  one  stone,"  ex- 
claimed Paddy,  with  animation. 

Peggy  could  not  help  smiling  at  such  folly. 

"  I'm  to  be  a  sarvant  there,  Paddy,  and  will 
have  nather  room  nor  wilcome  for  guests.  I'll 
tell  ye  where  Miss  Grey  is,  if  ye  nade  mo ;  but 
mind,  it's  to  be  buried  in  yer  own  heart ;  for 
I'd  not  wish  another  one  to  know  where  I  be." 

"  Nor  will  they,  ather.  Hasn't  yo  sint  word 
to  Mr.  Murray  ?  "  asked  Paddy. 

"  IIow  could  I  revale  to  him  the  disgrace  o' 
this  son  o'  the  righteous  ?  If  he  asks  for  me, 
make  my  respicts  to  him,  and  tell  him  the 
peace  o'  God,  that  he'd  so.  often  implored  on 
tis  all,  was  'bidin'  on  me  when  I  loft  home," 
said  Peggy. 

"  He  came  to  the  cottage  when  you  were 
gone,  to  inquire  into  the  evil  reports  he'd 
heerd-;  but  the  coward  o'  a  man  saw  him,  and 
run    off  into    the    farthest    barley-field,  and 


l^ 


"■•'&' 


142 


0SM8  OF  THE  BOO. 


wasn't  to  be  found  ;  and  so  did  Father  Clakey 
come  to  the  gate.  Nan  went  to  the  dc)or  and 
dropt  a  low  curshey,  and  asked, '  Will  yer  riv- 
erence  come  in  ?  ' 

""Deed  I  will  not,  ye  brazen-faced  maid,' 
says  he.  •  I'll  not  put  my  consecrated  feet  into 
a  house  where  ye  are  like  a  thafo  and  a 
robber !  Go  off  to  sarvice  and  am  yer  honest 
bread,  afore  ye  break  a  kind  woman's  heart. 
I'm  to  rade  ye  out  o'  tlio  church  next  day  ; 
and  I've  sore  work  to  keep  my  cane  ofiF  yer 
shoulders ! '  So  himself  doesn't  countonanco 
her  no  more  nor  Mr.  Murray,"  said  Paddy. 

"  No ;  he's  a  dacent  oold  man,  and  does  us 
well  as  he  knows,  may  be,"  re;^lied  Peggy. 
"  Now  mind,  I've  trusted  the  powltry  and  the 
craturs  all  with  ye,  and  be  faithful,  and  spoke 
soft  to  thim.  But,  Oh  me,  there'll  be  no  prayei 
in  the  cottage!  Ye  and  Nan  may  mumble 
over  yer  beads;  but  Jolm  will  not  dare  to 
pray,  sore  as  he  nadc?  marcy.  I'd  bid  ye  lave, 
were  it  not  that  John  has  a  soul.  Ye  watch 
for  tlie  first  sigh  o'  penitence,  and  manewhiles 
I'll  pray  day  and  niglit  that  God  will  take  hia 


Father  Clakey 
the  dc)or  and 
'  Will  ycr  riv- 

jn-faced  maid,' 
crated  feet  into 
a  thafe  and  a 
am  yer  honest 
woman's  heart, 
irch  next  day  ; 
ly  cane  ofiF  ycr 
.'t  countonanco 
said  Paddy, 
in,  and  does  us 
rc;^lied  Peggy, 
powltry  and  the 
hful,  and  spoke 
p'll  be  no  prayei 
1  may  mumble 
ill  not  dare  to 
I'd  bid  ye  lave, 
(ul.  Ye  watch 
and  manewhiles 
)d  will  take  hia 


■^;; 


-f- 


[ 


IPT" 


If  I 


n 


/Tft^MbWk^' 


peoot's  ooou-dyk  to  paddy. 


nOMELESS. 


143 


-Jf^-'  ■[ 


ffict  out  o'  the  net  afore  he  die ;  and  if  so  bo, 
who  knows  but  He'll  let  mo  bring  him  safe 
to  hor  at  last,  as  kIio  bid  me." 

"  There's  poor  tokens  on't,"  replied  Paddy. 

"  But  what  a  lovin'  father  God  is,  that  Ho 
tuk  little  Johnny  to  Himself  afore  this,"  said 
Peggy. 

"  So  Ho  is,  too,"  answered  Paddy  ;  "  but  I 
hears  the  great,  lumberiu'  whales  o'  the 
carrier." 

The  wagon  now  rolled  heavily  up  the  road, 
and  was  stopped  in  answer  to  the  call  of 
Paddy,  who  reached  up  the  blue  box  to  tho 
driver. 

Giving  Peggy  his  hand  to  assist  her  to  a 
scat  beside  him,  tho  man  said,  "  Yor  for  an 
carl^  start,  good  wife;"  and  then  looked  in 
amazement  at  her,  as,  leaning  down  from  hor 
porch,  she  grasped  the  rough  hand  ol  her  poor 
friend,  and  exclaimed,  "  May  the  Lord  x-eward 
ye  for  yer  love  and  pity  to  mo  with  the  salva- 
tion o'  yor  soul,  dear  man.  God  in  heaven 
bliss  ye,  Paddy  Mannon  !  " 


■:^ia|i?|B«fK3^,.- 


^ 


ii 


w 


144 


OEMS  OF  TEE  BOO. 


"  Am  I  takiii'  a  body  to  the  '  Lunatics '  ?  " 
asked  tlio  wagoner. 

"  'Dade  yc'io  not,  but  to  a  fine  lady's  houao, 
as  a  nurse,  my  man !  But  she's  a  dale  throu- 
bled  about  laving  her  ilegant  homo.  So  do  yo 
be  tinder  o'  her,  or  I'll  take  ycr  life  next  day," 
said  Paddy. 

The  man  rolled  out  a  rough  oath,  and  laid 
the  lash  heartily  on  the  backs  of  his  heavily- 
laden  horses. 

«*  Dear  man,"  cried  Peggy,  "  don't  give  an 
onnadeful  pang  to  any  tiling  God  has  made. 
We  and  the  dumb  craturs  is  all  His  work, 
and  all  sufferers,  too,  under  the  hand  o'  man. 
Be  marciful  to  thim  as  Ho  is  marciful  to  us." 

And  they  drove  off,  leaving  Paddy  wailing 
and  sobbing  on  the  roadside. 


[iunatics '  ? " 

lady's  lioufit), 

I  dale  ihrou- 
0.  So  do  yo 
0  next  day," 

itli,  and  laid 
his  heavily- 

lon't  give  an 
)d  has  made. 

II  His  work, 
and  o'  man. 
rciful  to  us." 
uddy  wailing 


u 


CHAPTER  Xin. 

SOWING  BY  THE  WAYSIDE. 

IT'S  heavy  whaling  the  day,  misthress," 
said  the  wagoner,  by  way  of  opening  a 
conversation  with  his  passenger ;  "  and  I  fear 
we'll  not  see  Baldargie,  where  I  halts  for  the 
night,  till  the  moon  be  riz." 

Turning  to  receive  an  answer,  he  saw  Peggy 
wiping  the  tears  from  her  pale  cheek,  and  his 
kind  heart  was  touched. 

"You've  lost  ycr  sarvice  place,  poor 
thing ! "  he  said ;  '«  but  I'm  just  sure  by  yer 
looks  it  was  no  fault  o'  yer  own ;  ye  must 
keep  up  heart,  for  all  will  turn  out  for  the  best 
in  the  end.  There's  a  better  place  waitin'  yo 
nor  the  one  ye've  lost,  and  a  kinder  and 
feeliner  misthress.  I've  lived  more  years  by 
a  dozen  than  ye,  and  my  experience  is,  that 
there's  a  sartain  amount  o'  luck  for  each  one 

U5  10 


,,.;(,.;.;■.;>;!-■«■ -^bK;:- 


146 


GEMS  OF  THE  BOO. 


o'  US.     Some  gets  it  all  in   a  liape  and  has 
hard    faro     afterward;     and     some     Rcts     it 
sprinkled  along  throngh  life.     The  last's  been 
my  lot.     I've  had  hard  work  froaa  a  lad  •  up, 
till  my  back's  been  nigh  broke  at  times ;  but 
when  I  took  a  wife,  then  came  luck  to  my 
door,  for  I  got  one  that  made  the  most  o'  the 
little  I  arued,  and  always    met    mo  with  a 
smile,  whether  my  hand  -vvas  empty  or  full. 
By-and-by  more  luck  come  in  the  shape  o' 
little  folk;  they  came  faster  than  the  bread 
did,  but   they    never  lacked.      If  any   went 
hungry,  it  was  Molly  and  mo.    In  them  days 
I  saw  nobody  I  envied ;  but  agin,  our  luck 
turned  two  ways  at  once.    I  got  this  team  o' 
horses  to  drive,  and  fine  pay.    But  when  bread 
was    plenty,  the  mouths  grew  scarce.      The 
little  darlin's  dropped  oflf,  one   followin'  the 
other,  till  we  counted    four  graves    in    the 
churchyard.    Now  we're  alone,  and  sorrowful 
enough  too.      But  as  we've  had  a  share  o' 
good  luck,  we  mustn't  grumble.    Your  luck 
will  turn  with  this  journey,  take  my   word 
for  it!    Why,  dry  yer  eyes  there;  don't  yor 


SOWmO  BY  THE  WAYSIDE. 


147 


ipo  and  lias 
le     gets    it 
last's  beoii 
a  a  lad -up, 
1  times;  but 
luck  to  ray 
most  o'  the 
mo  with  a 
ipty  oi*  full, 
the  shape  o' 
111  the  bread 
[f  any   went 
•\  them  days 
in,  our  luck 
this  team  o' 
t  when  bread 
scarce.      The 
foUowin'  tho 
avea    in    the 
md  sorrowful 
d  a  share  o' 
,    Your  luck 
,ke  my   word 
ro;  don't  yor 


know  its  luck  to  ride  with  Barney's  horses  ? 
and  if  yer  purse  is  low,  my  good  girl,  it  will 
niver  be  a  farthing  lower  for  me.  I'll  give  ye 
the  ride  and  wilcome  and  say  a  good  word 
for  ye  at  tho  cud  o'  the  journey,  where  I  puts 
up  these  seven  year." 

"  Yor  too  kind,  friend,"  replied  Peggy. 
*'  If  I  was  nady  I'd  accept  yer  offer  as  if  yo 
was  my  brother ;  but  I've  several  guineas  o' 
money,  and  a  place  to  go  into  when  I  arrive  in 
the  great  town." 

"  Tlien  I  can't  see  what  on  arth  makes  ye 
cry.  If  yer  a  maid,  yo  cannot  have  buried 
husband  or  child,"  said  the  wagoner  kindly. 

"  Ah,  sir,  I've  lost  botli.  I  first  buried  tho 
swatest  mother  God  iver  gave  a  poor  girl,  and 
tlicn  a  dear  Iambic  o'  a  boy  that  I  tuk  mother- 
leas  to  my  bussum.  But  them  was  small  loss, 
because  it  was  so  asy  to  see  God's  hand  in 
their  goin'.  I've  lost  the  other  now,  but  not 
in  tho  grave.  Yer  too  kind  to  ask  me  more. 
Listen  patient  now,  while  I  tell  ye  the  idee  I 
has  about  luck.  I  calls  it  '  Providence,'  and 
vrhether  it   comes  in  sunshine   or  in    black 


148 


GEMS  OF  THE  BOG. 


cloud,  I  sees  God's  face  in  it.     I  can  say,  with 
you   holy  David,  'Goodness   and   marcy  have 
followed  inc  all  the  days  o'  my  life,'  for  when 
God  tuk  all  the  others  from  me.  Ho  left  Him- 
self.   And,  dear  man,  nobody  can  be  poor  or 
desolate  as  has  Him  in  his  soul,  —  Him  that 
sticketh    closer    nor    a    brother.      When    I 
was  livin'  at  my  ase,  Him  that  sees  the  end 
from  the  beginning  was  preparin'  a  table  afore 
me  in  presence  o'  my  inimies.    And  He  it  was 
that  led  ye,  too,  through  both  bog  and  pastur', 
that  ye  might  see  His  hand  and  come  and  taste 
o'  His  love.    He  gave  yer  wife  and  babies  m 
marcy,  and  Ho  tuk  the  Iambics  in  the  same 
marcy,  to  draw  tho  parents'  heart  after  them. 
Don't,  then,  call  yer  joys  and  throubles  '  luck,' 
like  a  hatl.en,  but  call  them  the  dalins'  o'  God 

with  ye." 

"  Why,  my  good  woman,  ye're  a  Mothodis, 
sure.  I  nivor  heerd  the  like  talk  from  another 
but  thim ! "  cried  the  wagoner,  looking  in  sur- 
prise at  Peggy.  f 

"  I  never  seed  a  one  o'  them,"  she  replied, 
"  though  I've  heerd  tell  o'  the  Wesleys,  and 


4Jjk 


!an  say,  with 

marcy  have 

fe,'  for  whoa 

Ic  left  Him- 

i  be  poor  or 

—  Him  that 

When    I 

sees  the  eud 

a  table  afore 

[id  He  it  was 

and  pastur', 

>mc  and  taste 

nd  babies  in 

in  the  same 

t  after  them. 

mbles '  luck,' 

lalins'  o'  God 

a  Mothodis, 
from  another 
okiug  in  sur- 

'  she  replied, 
Wosleys,  and 


SOWING  BY  THE  WAYSIDE.  149 

knows  a  lovely  hymn   that  one  o'  them  writ 
about  Jesus." 

And  thus  Peggy  beguiled   the  way,  talking 
in  a  manner  almost  miraculous  for  her,  and 
leading  tlie  mind  of  her  rough  companion  up 
to  God.    Before  niglit  fell  she  had  heard  liis 
history  and  given  him  hers,  — all  save  the  one 
sore   point  on  which   he  was  too  delicate  to 
question  her.  She  had  heard  of  the  few  praying 
Methodists  in  his  native  town,  who,  he  said, 
"  wore  parsecutin'  every  body  to  be  convarted 
like  themselves,  and  goin'  on  as  if  religion 
was  the  importantist  thing  in  tlio  world.  They 
had  won  little  Billy  over  to   their  school,  and 
Jerry  too,  afore  they  died,  and  had  filled  up 
their  small  heads  with  varses  and  hymns  that 
came  out  in   their  dyin'  breath ;    and    now 
they  are  tarned  to  parsecutin'  me  and  my  wife 
the  same  way,  and  she's  a'  most  one  o'  'em, 
—  goin'    to    their    prayers,    and    their    sing- 
ings, and  the  like.    But  I  never  tuk  much  to 
thim  things ;  all  the  religion  iver  I  had,"   he 
added,  "was  hathrod  o'   the   Catholics,'  and 
holdin'  up  my  head  with  pride  that  I  warn't 


150 


GEMS  OF  TUE  BOO. 


born  among  thorn.  Why,  good  woman,  thim 
Methodises  bclave  that  Papists  may  all  be 
turned  yet ;  and  they  prays  and  prays  for  that, 
but  they  can't  know  the  power  o'  the  Pope  and 
the  priests." 

"  Dear  man,  thim  poor  craturs,  whoso  brith 
is  in  their  nostrils,  is  no  more  in  God's  hand 
nor  the  stubble  afore  the  fire,  and  it's  as  asy 
for  Him  to  bring  the  Pope  off  his  throne  into 
the  dust,  where  he'll  plade  for  mercy,  as  it 
would  be  to  soften  yer  kind  heart  and  bow  it 
to  His  will,"  said  Peggy. 

Then  she  told  him  of  Mammy  Honey's  dy- 
ing prayers,  and  of  her  faith  for  poor  Ireland  ; 
and  while  on  this  theme,  the  wagon  rolled  up 
heavily  into  the  paved  yard  of  the  "  O'Con- 
nor's Arms  Inn,"  where  they  were  to  rest  for 
the  night. 

Another  day's  ride  brought  them  to  the  city 
whither  they  were  bound.  The  wagoner  re- 
fused to  give  the  little  blue  box  and  its  owner 
into  any  stranger's  care.  After  attending  to 
the  animals,  which  he  digniaed  by  the  name 
of   "harses,"  but  which  bore  a  remarkable 


SOWING  BY  TUB  WAYSIDE. 


151 


roman,  thim 
may  all  be 
ays  for  that, 
Ijc  Pope  and 

whoso  brlth 
God's  hand 

1  it's  as  asy 
throne  into 

mercy,  as  it 

t  and  bow  it 

'  Honey's  dy- 
poor  Ireland ; 
;on  rolled  up 
the  "O'Con- 
'0  to  rest  for 

m  to  the  city 
I  wagoner  re- 
nd its  owner 
attending  to 
by  the  name 
a  remarkable 


resemblance  to  the  mule  family,  he  shouldered 
the  box,  and,  followed  by  Peggy,  made  his  way 
to  Bcrkely  Terrace,  with  Miss  Grey's  card  ia 
his  band. 

Wlicn  they  reached  the  door  and  Peggy  re.i<l 
"  Grey "  on  the  tliin,  broad  brass  plate,  she 
said,  "  And  now  we  must  part,  friend.  I 
tliank  ye  for  yer  goodness,  so  unlilce  what  I 
looked  for  at  the  startin',  when  I  heerd  an  oath 
and  saw  the  blow  ye  give  the  craturs  !  Niver  aa 
oatli  did  I  hear  from  ye,  nor  yet  a  blow  but  that 
one.  If  ye  don't  love  nor  fear  the  Lord  for  Ilia 
own  sake,  plaze,  for  my  sake,  niver  sware  more. 
Look  after  yer  soul,  dear  man  ;  and  if  iver  ye 
or  yer  wife  nade  a  friend,'  Miss  Grey  will  know 
where  ye'Il  find  Peggy  Siieehan.     Farewell." 

Poor  Miss  Grey,  herself  far  from  young  or 
strong,  was  engaged  in  her  never-failing  task 
of  settling  disputes  between  her  feeble  and 
cliildisli  mother  and  an  impatient  nurse,  when 
Peggy  was  announced  as  "  a  queer,  dressed 
body  witli  a  blue  wood  box  in  her  arms." 

Entering  her  sitting-room,  tlie  lady  was 
amazed  to  see  a  stranger  standing  there  on  a 


-aammmmmmlmimtlltUt 


GEMS  OF  THE  BOO. 

pocket-handkerchief,  holding  a  trunk  in  her 
arms,  afraid  to  set  it  down  lest  she  might  in- 
jure the  car|)et,  never  having  trod  on  one  be- 
fore. When  the  lady  recognized  her,  she  said, 
*'  0,  Pogg}',  have  you  changed  your  mind  and 
left  that  elegant  homo  and  that  good  husband 
to  help  me  a  little  while?  You've  come  iu 
an  hour  of  need.  Your  visit  is  like  an  an- 
gel's.   How  long  can  you  stay  ?  " 

"  Wliilo  yo  uades  me,  dear  lady,  and  I'll 
sarve  the  feeble  one  day  and  night,  only  don't 
ax  me  u  question  till  I  tell  ye  what's  happened 
that  sent  me  here." 

"  Peggy,  I  have  not  left  my  mother's  room 
for  seven  nights,"  silid  Miss  Grey.  "  Her 
nurso  h^si  no  patienco  and  I  must  see  that  all 
are  gentle  with  iicr." 

"  jjh,  butril  have  hapea  o' patience,  and 
yo  may  now  slape  asy,  sure  that  I'll  bo  as 
til  dci"  o'  hor  as  if  she  was  the  gentlest  lady  iu 
the  world,"  said  Peggy. 

And  she  fulfilled  her  promise  a  thousand- 
fold. She  became  a  nurse  to  the  mother,  a 
comforter  to  the  daughter,  an  example  and  a 


i^iH 


unk  ill  her 
3  might  iu- 
l  on  one  be- 
)r,  she  said, 
t*  mind  and 
)od  husband 
re  come  iu 
like  an   an- 

iy,  and  I'll 
;,  only  don't 
's  happened 

thor's  room 


ey. 


Hop 


see  that  all 

Uience,  and 

I'll  bo   as 

ilest  lady  in 

a  thousand- 
3  mother,  a 
tuple  and  n 


SOWIJya  BY  THE   WAYSIDE. 


153 


teacher  to  the  servants,  —  a  blessing  to  the 
whole  liouse ;  in  which  we  leave  her  for  the 
present,  striving  to  be  faithful  over  a  few 
things. 


-'     !: 


% 


w 


CHAPTER    XIV. 


MISERY  IN  THE   COTTAGE 


ON  Paddy's  return  to  the  cottage,  after  part- 
ing with  his  mistress  on  the  wagon,  break- 
fast was  still  waiting,  although  the  hour  was 
late.  As  ho  sprang  over  the  stile  he  heurd  Nan 
call  out  from  the  door,  "  Yor  breakfast  is  all 
coolin',  John."  John  returned  her  no  answer, 
but  followed  Paddy  to  his  own  quarters  without 
raising  his  head  or  speaking. 

"  A'n't  ye  for  ony  breakfast  this  morning, 
irasther  ?  "  asked  Paddy,  assuming  an  air  of 
jocosonchs. 

"  Noi  yet,  Paddy ;  I'll  wait  till  Peggy  comes," 
ho  rci)liod. 

"  Will  yo  ?  Och,  then,  ye'U  shtarvo  to  diih, 
I  can  promise  yo  that,"  replied  Paddy,  with  a 
smart  nod  of  his  head. 

*'  Do  yc  know  where  she  is  ?  **  asked  John. 

154 


;e,  after  part- 
jragon,  break- 
10  hour  was 
le  heard  Nan 
^akfast  is  all 
3r  no  answer, 
irters  without 

liis  morning, 
ng  an  air  of 

'cggy  comes," 

itarvo  to  dill  1, 
?addy,  with  a 

'  asked  John. 

54 


^ilPpiVMIIiipP 


MISERY  7JV  THE  COTTAGE. 


155 


"  'Dado  I  do,"  was  the  answor. 

John  looKed  at  him,  expecting  to  hear  that 
she  Iiad  taken  refuge  with  Mrs.  Murray,  or 
some  oi"  licr  other  friends  in  Cloynmally.  But 
Paddy  began  to  whistle  carelessly,  and  to  pro- 
pare  his  humble  breakfast. 

The  wretched  man  groaned  aloud,  hut  still 
Paddy  whistled  a  gay  tune,  as  if  to  make  Iwm 
as  miserable  as  possible  by  contrast  with  his 
own  mirth. 

"  Wljore  18  yor  misthress,  then,  if  ye  know  ?  " 
asked  John,  in  a  sharp  tone. 

"She's  where  ye  can't  find  her!  Nobody 
knows  where  but  thim  that's  got  her,  and 
poor  Paddy,  that  loves  her  faithful,  though  he 
never  tuk'  oath  to  do  it  afore  Qod'a  altar! 
Now !  "  cried  Paddy,  triumphantly. 

"  Whist,  man  !  "  exclaimed  John.  «  Do  ye 
know  who  ye'ro  talkin'  to  ?  " 

"To  i/ersi^f,  masther.  Do  9/e  know  who 
f/e're  talkin'  to  ?  Becuse  I  can  toll  ye  it's  a 
Buiall  excuse  will  take  me  off  Daisy  Farm  now ! 
My  rii)ulation's  at  stf,ke,  and  as  I've  always 


166 


GEilS  OF  THE  BOO. 


lived  with  dacent  people,  i'ln  rcsalvod  to  do 
so  still !  Mind,  I'm  not  tied  down  by  a  family 
now,  and  I  may  turn  out  a  great  traveller  yet. 
Who  knows  ?  " 

Again  John  groaned.  He  felt  that  the  poor, 
simple  work-house  boy,  whom  he  had  from 
boyhood  both  despised  and  patronized,  was 
now  his  superior  and  his  master,  looking  down 
on  him  with  contempt.  He  knew,  also,  that 
Taddy  was  possessed  of  a  secret  which  he  had 
not  power  to  extort  from  him ;  and,  with  his 
head  bowed  and  his  hands  clasped  behind  him, 
he  went  to  his  work  in  the  field  without  break- 
ing his  fast. 

At  nightfall,  when  Paddy  returned  from  tlio 
peat-bog  where  he  had  been  all  day  at  work, 
he  seated  himself  on  the  door-stone  of  the 
cottage,  to  wait  for  his  milk.  His  heart  was 
gladdened  by  sounds  of  discord  from  within, 
and  not  being  remarkably  delicate  on  points  of 
honor,  he  placed  himself  where  ho  could  hear 
without  being  seen. 

"Nannie,  I'd  bog  yo  on  my  bonded  knees 


vcd  to  do 
)y  a  family 
ivoller  yot. 

t  U»o  poor, 
liad  from 
mizcd,  was 
(king  down 
also,  that 
ich  ho  had 
id,  with  his 
chind  him, 
liout  break- 

li  from  tho 
ly  at  work, 
;oiio   of  tho 

heart  was 
om  within, 
m  points  of 

could  hear 

tided  knoos 


PfSP 


MISERY  /iV  THE  COTTAGE. 


157 


to  go  to  yer  mother,  or  off  where  ye  plaze, 
and  let  the  broken-hearted  jewel  back  to  her 
lioiue." 

"Tiic  cottage  is  big  enough  for  us  both," 
replied  Nan  ;  "  but  she's  that  seiash  that  she'll 
have  tho  whole  or  none ;  so  she's  tuk  tho  last. 
She'll  run  back  when  tho  first  strange  mau 
looks  her  in  the  face !  " 

"  It  would  take  more  than  that  to  frighten 
ye,  then  !  "  exclaimed  John,  tartly. 

"  'Deed  it  would ;  a  hundred  o'  em  couldn't  do 
it !  "  said  Nan,  bravely. 

"  Ye  arc  a  bould  woman,  and  I  bid  yo  to 
depart  at  once  out  o'  my  house.  Ye'll  ruin 
my  riputation  in  Killyrooke,"  cried  John. 

"  Yo've  none  left  to  be  hurted,"  she  said. 
"  Only  tins  morning  I  heerd  two  lads  say  o'  ye, 
♦There's  tho  Protestant  church  of  Killyrooke.' 
Yer  character  is  gone,  but  a  man  may  live 
without  that,  if  ho  has  enough  to  ate.  Keep 
yo  asy  now,  and  I'll  tind  to  yer  cottage  and 
dairy,  for  Peg  gavo  mt    dl  her  nato  ways." 

"  I  will  niver  'bido  ye  !  "  cried  Johu,  reso- 
lutely.   «  I'll  put  an  end  to  my  life,  or  I'll  run 


'»<!tfHI 


wmrt: 


158 


OEMS  OF  THE  BOO. 


f«     ' 


off  to  Amoriky,  to  be  rid  of  yo.  I  hates  ye, 
and  ycr  whole  race,  for  the  evil  ye've  brought 
on  this  house  and  ou  my  name." 

IJy  thia  time  Nan,  deaf  to  his  words,  was 
singing  in  a  merry  voice  a  snatcli  of  a  nonsen- 
sical song,  as  if  ho  was  not  wortli  replying  to. 

Poor,  miserable,  irresolute  dupe  that  John 
was!  He  saw  that  his  wife  was  heart-l)rokeii 
and  gone,  and  his  character  ruined,  and  he  gave 
wp  all  for  lost.  Before  the  sun  set  that  day  it 
spread  through  the  village,  — all  alive  with  in- 
dignation before,  —  that  Peggy  had  returned  to 
her  cottage,  and  finding  Nau  installed  as  mis- 
tress, had  fled  for  ever ;  and  there  were  few  of 
eitlicr  church  so  heartless  as  not  to  pity  the 
Buffering  wife,  and  to  censure  those  who  had 
BO  cruelly  wronged  her.  And  very  few  women 
were  sunk  so  low  as  to  cross  the  threshold  to 
speak  with  Nan. 

Poor,  ruined  John  sank  into  a  settled  melan- 
choly. He  walked  about  the  farm  with  his  hat 
drawn  over  his  eyes,  and  turned  away  from 
every  neighbor  ho  met,  without  saluting  him. 
He  forsook  his  seat  in  God's  house,  and  cast 


MISERY  IN  THE  COTTAGE. 


159 


hates  ye, 
3  brought 

ords,  was 
a  iioiisen- 
plyliig  to. 
that  John 
irt-l)i*okcii 
d  he  gave 
hat  day  it 
0  with  in- 
jturncd  to 
id  as  rais- 
jro  few  of 
)  pity  tho 
who  had 
3w  women 
iroshold  to 

led  molan- 
ith  his  hat 
away  from 
iitiiig  him. 
),  and  cast 


aside  oven  tho  forms  of  religion.     He  would 
not  go  to  market,  but  trusted  Paddy  with  his 
business  and  his  money.     Ho  felt  his  degrada- 
tion not  only  when  former  friends  turned  from 
him,  but  more  so  when  tiio  very  beggars,  who 
had  always  found  a  welcome  at  the  cottage, 
passed    it    by    without    a  glanco.    His  only 
visitors  now  were  tlie  family  and  tho  hoyden 
companions  of  Nan,  who  all  made  as  free  at 
the  cottage  as  if  it  were  their  own.     The  only 
peace  John    had    now,  was   when  Nan  went 
o(T  with   these   friends,  as  she  often   did,  to 
merry-makings  for  a  week  or  more  at  a  time, 
llicn  Paddy  would  return  to  tho  table  and  to 
his  old  bod  in  the  loft ;  and  John  would  grow 
strong,  and  prophesy  that  sho  would  never  re- 
turn.    IJut  when  her  money  was  gone,  and  sho 
was    weary   with    tramping   about,  back  sho 
would  come,  causing  John  to  turn  pale,  and 
Paddy  to  flee,  as  if  she  were  a  phantom  of  the 
pestilence. 

But  through  all  those  long  days  and  years, 
although  Paddy  had  heard  frequently  of  his 
mistress  and  had  seen  her  once,  he  had  never 


»Miil 


160 


OEMS  OF  THE  BOO- 


spoken  her  namo  to  John,  and  if  \m  master 
uttered   it,  ho  would  say,  "  Take  care !  ye'U 
burn  yer  tongue  if  ye  spake    o'  yon  one." 
Sechig  how  the  namo  of  his  mother  stung  him, 
Paddy  took  a  savage  delight  in  calling  up  her 
memory  and  her  instructions,  whenever  they 
were  at  work  together.     "Will,  will!"   he 
would  say,  in  irony,  "  but  it  was  fine  tachin' 
she  gave  us  both  in  religion,  sure,  and  a  good  • 
use  we're  makin'  o't !     I'm  thinkin'  o'  tarniu' 
Protcstint  mysilf,  when  I  sees  what  ilegant 
Christians  that  church  makes !    Yis,  yis,  we're 
makin'  good  headway,  you  and  me,  masther, 
to  where  she  is  now.    It's    a   strange  thing, 
indade,  that  the  whole  town  do  not  all  lave 
Father  Clakey  in  the  lurch,  and  run  to  Mr. 
Murray,  when  they  sees  what  angils  he  makes 
out  o'  men.     Say,  masther,  do  ye  belave  that 
the  saints  aboove  —  Misthress  Honey,  and  the 
like  o'  her — looks  down  and  sees  what's  goin* 
on  below  ?  " 

No  matter  how  insolent  or  how  tantalizing 
Paddy  was,  John  dared  not  rebuke  him,  lest 
he  might  take  it  into  his  head  to  go  off  on 


|P; 


MISEIiT  IN  THE  COTTAGE. 


161 


lis  master 
caro!  ye'll 
yon  one." 
stung  him, 
iig  up  her 
lever  they 
will!"  he 
ne  tachiu' 
and  a  good  • 
'  o'  tarniix' 
tat  ilegant 
,  yi8,  we're 
B,  masther, 
inge  thing, 
,ot  all  lave 
run  to  Mr. 

>  he  makes 
belave  that 
ey,  and  the 
irhat's  goin' 

tantalizing 
:e  him,  lest 

>  go  off  on 


"  tlio  travels"  ho  was  constantly  holding  up  as 
a  tliioat,  and  tlie  poor,  erring  man  felt  that 
there  he  would  not  liave  a  mortal  to  speak  to. 

Just  before  Puddy  wont,  at  Mr,  Murray's  re* 
quest,  to  carry  a  letter  of  comfort  to  his  mis- 
tress, he  took  occasion  to  irritate  his  master 
beyond  endurance  ;  and  when  rebuked  for  his 
insolence,  he  packed  up  his  all  in  bundles, 
which  he  hung  on  pegs  in  the  cow-house, 
donned  "the  ould  masther's  Sunday  shute," 
sliouldered  his  oaken  staflf,  and  set  off  appar- 
ently in  high  dudgeon.  When  at  the  end  of 
a  week  "  he  came  back  for  his  bundles,"  John 
wont  to  the  cow-house  and  implored  him  not 
to  foisake  him.  By  some  cunning  on  Paddy's 
part,  and  an  offer  of  higher  wages  on  John's, 
tiic  matter  was  adjusted ;  and  thenceforth  the 
master  took  good  care  not  to  give  farther  occa- 
sion for  a  separation,  fully  believing  that 
Paddy  had  been  off  to  look  for  a  new  plaoe. 


: 


■  Mlrfii 


CHAPTER  XV.  ' 

ON    THE    MOUNT. 

THERE  is  a  high  point  in   the  Christian's 
upward  journey  wlience  he  may  look  down 
on  all  helow  as  on  the  playthings  of  childhood, 
or  the  vain    pleasures  of   youth.    Even  the 
things  which  belong  to  himself  lose  their  size 
and  their  importance  in  the  distance,  and  fade 
into  nothingness,  in  comparison  with  the  calm 
glories  by  which  ho   is    surrounded  on  the 
mount.    The  home  that  once  ho   called  his 
own,  but  from  which  misfortunes  have  driven 
him,  no  longer  seems  the  one  only  spot  where 
he  can  live  or  die.    Whether  it  be  palace  or 
cottage,  it  sinks  into  insignificance  beside  the 
home  of  "  many  mansions,"  with  a  glimpse  of 
which  he  has  been  favored.    The  treasures 
of  gold,  or  merchandise,  or  harvest,  all  grow 
poor  in  the  eyes  of  him  who  has  the  earnest  of 

163 


ON  rUE  MOUNT. 


163 


Christian's 
jT  loolc  down 
F  childhood, 
Even  the 
80  tlicir  size 
ce,  and  fade 
ith  the  calm 
ded  on  the 
3   called  his 
liave  driven 
y  spot  where 
bo  palace  or 
30  beside  the 
a  glimpse  of 
ho   treasures 
est,  all  grow 
ho  earnest  of 


heaven  and  its  eternal  wealth  already  in  his 
soul.  Sorrows,  as  well  as  joys,  are  regarded 
with  other  eyes  than  of  yore.  The  grave 
wliero  the  beloved  were  hidden  when  torn 
from  the  bleeding  heart,  is  now  only  a  peaceful 
bed ;  and  the  dear  sleepers  are  not  dead,  but 
living  and  loving  still. 

• 

"  Hope  then  lifts  her  radiant  finger,  •■ 

Pointing  to  the  eternal  home,  ' 

On  whose  portals  they  yet  linger. 
Looking  back  for  us  to  come." 

Even  the  erring  among  his  heart's  dear 
treasures,  —  those  who  have  wandered  far  from 
God,  and  for  whose  salvation  he  would  lay 
down  his  life,  —  their  case  seems  not  so  utterly 
hopeless  when  seen  from  this  hight,  as  when 
he  walked  on  the  low  ground  beside  them. 
As  he  learns  more  of  God's  power,  he  sees 
also  the  weakness  of  Satan's  chaiii.  As  he 
learns  more  ni  His  holiness  and  mercy,  he 
casts  away  his  fears,  and  trusts  the  wanderers 
with  Him.  Even  if  their  sun  may  seem  to  set 
in  darkness,  he  still  sees  "  light  in  His  light," 


1G4 


GEMS  OF  THE  BOO. 


atid  bows  to  Hla  will,  sure  that  the  Judge  of 
the  whole  earth  will  do  right. 

That  there  is  such  a  hight  as  this  in  Chris- 
tian experience,  we  know  from  the  testimony 
of  those,  few  though  they  bo,  who  have 
reached  it,  and  who  move  among  us  still, 
while  they  live  on  the  verge  of  heaven  and 
breathe  its  peaceful  air. 

To    this  summit    our  humble  heroine  rose 
on  that  night  when,  after  a  fearful  struggle, 
she  p'tve  up  her  mother  to  God,  and  kissed  the 
rod  wl   ch  had  so    sorely  smitten  her.     And 
'lUhougii  at  times  dark  clouds  had  gathered 
around  and  obscured   the    light    for  a  little 
season,  she  had  never  descended  again  to  the 
dark  valley  where  before  ^^ho  had  walked  and 
stumbled  like  a  weak  and  timid  child.     The 
littleness  of  earth  and    the    greatness  of  all 
beyond  were  so  deeply  impressed  on  her  mind, 
that  life  thenceforth  became  to   her   of  vast 
value.    Every  moment  was  consecrated  to  use- 
ful toil,  and  in  this  blessed  actvity  she  forgot, 
iu  a  measure,  her    own    sorrows.    Love  to 


ON  TUB  MOUNT. 


165 


Judge  of 

i  in  Chris- 
testimony 
who  have 
T  us  still, 
leaven  and 


sroine  rose 
1  struggle, 
kissed  the 
her.     And 
i  gathered 
or  a  little 
lain  to  the 
(Talked  and 
ihild.    The 
iiesa  of  all 
I  her  mind, 
or   of  vast 
ated  to  use- 
she  forgot, 
I.     Love  to 


others,  and  earnest  efibrts  to  carry  that  lovo 
out  into  action,  fn  ■  sovereign  balms  for  the 
wounded  spirit. 

Peggy  possessed  that  rare  faculty  of  lighten- 
ing every  body's  burdens  while  seeming  to  do 
but  little.  Witiiout  any  bustle  or  stir  shu  liad 
become  sole  nurse  for  the  poor  failing  mother 
of  Miss  Grey. 

The  servants  were  not  slow  to  see  how  their 
own  toil  wao  lessened  ;  and  so,  from  selQsh 
motives  if  from  no  other,  they  trea*x3d  her  with 
that  respect  which  they  hoped  would  keep 
her  long  there.  Miss  Grey  had  at  first  spoken 
of  her  in  the  house  as  a  connection  of  her  old 
nurse,  whoso  presence  would  be  a  great  com- 
fort to  them  all,  and  had  bidden  the  servants 
to  addross  her  as  "  Misthrcss  Sheehan;"  and 
they  were  always  civil  to  one  for  whom  their 
mistress  manifested  so  much  regard,  and  who 
was  such  a  comfort  to  her  in  her  own  weuk- 
uess  and  trouble. 

Miss  Grey  was  herself  one  of  the  pure  ia 
heart,  but  she  was  encompassed  with  trials, 
and    was  the  subject  of   nervous  depression 


tmimtmmMit 


:)  f  k' 


166 


OEMS  OF  THE  BOO. 


which  at  tunes  cast  shadows  over  her  mind, 
and  left  licr  to  grope  in  tl»c  darkness  and  to 
write  bitter  tilings  against  licrself.  Ilcr 
earlier  life  had  hccn  one  of  health  and  of 
activity  in  all  tliat  was  good ;  but  the  confine- 
ment of  years  in  a  sick  room  had  broken  down 
both  health  and  spirits,  and  had  forced  iicr  . 
relinquish  every  work  but  that  of  giving. 
And  now,  forgetting  the  groat  labor  and  sacri- 
fice she  had  been  making  at  home,  she  looked 
upon  herself  as  an  idler  in  the  vineyard,  a 
curaberer  of  the  ground. 

When  qnict  and  order  were  restored  to  the 
house  after  the  death  of  Mrs.  Grey,  Peggy 
thought  her  work  was  done  in  Berkeley  Ter- 
race. One  day,  after  many  thanks  to  Miss 
Grey  for  her  kindness,  she  opened  the  subject 
of  a  new  place,  saying,  "  And  now,  dear  lady, 
as  I'll  be  but  an  idler  here,  I've  thought  well 
to  look  about  me  for  work.  But  I'd  like  it  to 
be  work  that  would  call  for  not  only  strong 
arms,  but  a  lovin'  heart  and  hapes  o'  patience. 
If  I  could  go  into  some  hospital  or  'syliim, 
where    old    people   war   to   be   humored    like 


icr  mind, 
iss  and  to 
elf.  Ilcr 
h  and  of 
c  confinc- 
keu  down 
jcd  l>ci'  . 
of  giving, 
and  sacri- 
jlic  looked 
incyard,  a 

red  to  the 
ey,  Peggy 
kcley  Ter- 
:s  to  Miss 
ho  subject 
dear  lady, 
ought  well 
1  like  it  to 
nly  strong 
•'  patience, 
or  'syliim, 
aored    like 


ON  THE  MOUNT. 


167 


childcr,  or  where  little  ones  war  to  bo  tinded 
and  rarcd  up,  I'd  like  it  well.  My  heart's 
that  full  o'  desire  for  work,  that  I  bo  draining 
o'  nights  that  I'm  gathcrin'  flocks  o'  littlo 
childcr  in  my  arms  and  coverin'  'em  up  with 
my  shawl  from  the  wind  and  the  storm.  I'd 
be  glad  to  make  sunssliine  in  .some  place  like  o' 
them,  and  so,  may  bo,  I  might  lade  some  wan- 
derer, great  or  small,  to  the  heaven  that 
seema  just  at  my  hand.  Dear  lady,  it  is  so 
near  my  sperit,  that  when  1  shuts  my  eyes  I 
feels  that  I'm  in  it  a'ready !  " 

"  Well,  Misthross  Sheehan,"  replied  Miss 
Grey,  •'  I  have  an  hospital  and  an  asylum  all 
ready  for  vou.  I'm  '  patient '  enough  to  begin 
with.  I  need  all  your  care  and  skill  for  tho 
present;  and  when  my  health  is  improved  so 
that  I  can  return  to  my  old  labors,  we  will 
look  after  my  poor  peoytlo  and  friendless  little 
children.  I  am  not  asking  you  to  remain  hero 
for  your  sake,  but  for  m'i»';.  ('.  you  leave  me, 
I  must  have  soire  o  iu  j.onr  L\ce  ;  and  who 
can  bo  such  a  nurse  lor  botii  I  •  dy  and  mind  ? 
I  shall  call  you  't-    fi ,    jd  n)tl      )mpanion,  and 


^liiiWilMiiliiliiH 


M(iii>iii<i'iii<in  iiiauMfiii 


ttmubmrntm 


168  GEMS  OF  TEE  BOG. 

whilo  you  help  me,  I  may  bo  able  to  help 

you." 

"  Och,  but  that  would  be  work  for  the  heart, 
indade !  But  I'm  afeard  I'd  grow  idle  with 
such  an  asy  life,"  said  Peggy. 

"  Make  it  as  toilsome  as  you  please,"  replied 
Miss  Grey.  "  I  have  eight  or  ten  poor  people 
for  whose  comfort  I  once  felt  myself  respon- 
sible. Of  late  years  I  have  done  nothing  for 
them  but  to  send  their  little  pittance  weekly. 
We  will  look  them  all  up  again  ind  see  to 
their  wants.  One  of  them  is  blind  ;  to  hor  you 
can  read  the  Bible  she  loves  so  much." 

"  Och,  dear  lady,  but  ye  knows  well  how  I 
stumbles  at  the  long  words.  Ye  mind  what 
work  I  made  with  the  hard  names  the  day  tho 
poor  old  lady,  yer  mother,  would  have  me 
read  about  the  hand\»'iitiu'  on  the  wall." 

"  Well,  pass  over  those  parts  till  you  prfto- 
tioe  more,"  said  Misa  Grey.  "There  are 
many  beautiful  chapters  and  psalms  without  a 
hard  word  ill  them."  v  : 

"I've  thought  o'    i'lat   same    many  times, 
dear  lady ;  and  what  a  marcy  it  is  to  the  igno- 


^^■^ijtnpiiui  J  mm 


ible  to  help 

for  the  heart, 
)W  idle  with 

jase,"  replied 
I  poor  people 
lysclf  respon- 
0  nothing  for 
;anco  weekly, 
u  ind  SCO  to 
i  ;  to  her  you 
uch." 

rs  well  how  I 
0  mind  what 
SB  tho  day  tho 
uld  have  me 
3  wall." 
till  you  prftO' 
"  There  are 
ilms  without  a 

many  times, 
is  to  the  igno- 


OJV  THE  MOUNT.  169 

rant  bodies  like  me.  All  about  the  Lord  Jesus 
and  Ills  salvation  is  as  plain  as  tlie  sun.  One 
that  could  but  only  spell  his  words  could  make 
out, '  I  am  the  way,  the  truth  and  the  life  ; ' 
or,  '  Come  unto  Me  all  ye  that  labor  and  are 
hivy  laden,  and  I  will  give  you  rest.'  It's 
just  the  very  book  for  the  poo;-  and  simple ; 
and  I'll  strive  to  read  it  better,  that  I  may  get 
a  heariu'  for  it  whenever  I  goes  among  yer 
poor  and  sick  ones."  * 

"Misthross  Sheehan,"  replied  Miss  Grey, 
"  I  have  a  work  for  little  children  on  my 
heart,  if  I  know  how  to  accomplish  it.  We 
liad  for  many  years  a  housekeeper  with  a  little 
child.  Fanny  Bond  was  taught  to  road,  and 
write,  and  sow ;  and  my  mother,  being  very 
fond  of  her,  resolved  to  give  her  an  easier  life 
than  a  servant's ;  to  have  her  taught  a  trade, 
I)erhaps.  She  and  her  mother  ate  at  a  table 
by  themselves,  and  Panay,  who  never  asso- 
ciated with  tho  servants  in  the  kitchen,  nor 
learned  their  ways,  grew  up  an  amiable  and  in- 
teresting girl. 

'  My  brother's  regiment  was  recalled  from 


• 


(( 


mttiu 


miimiii^mmam 


tmmM 


iwJ 


OEMS  OF  THE  BOO. 


•;■  '1 


¥ 


India  some  years  ago,  and  ho  brought  homo 
with  him  a  young    Englishman    as    his    at- 
tendant, who  had  been  one  of  l»is   subordin- 
ate officers.     He  was  very  amusing,  and  had 
curious   arts   for  killing   time    iu   the   camp, 
wliich  made   him  a  great    favorite,  not  only 
with  his  comrades  but  also  with  the  officers. 
But  he  had  not  the  art  of  making  a  living,  and 
thought  no  more  of  preparing  for   the  future 
than  if  he  were  not  a  reasoning  man.     Being 
now  discharged  from  the    arm^,  ho  lived  on 
from  day  to  day,  always  proposing  to  leave  tho 
house  to  begin  somo  work,  but  not  doing  so 

for  months. 

"  Against  tho  advice    and    entreaty  of  her 
mother   and  the    commands  of    mine,  Fanny 
married  this  Sam  Wells  and  wont  with  hiui  to 
Ei.gluid,  where  ho  admitted  ho  had  neither 
home   nor  prospects.     Well,  like  many  other 
simple  girls,  Pac  found  out  her  error  when  too 
lute.     She  camo  back  to  her  mother  throe  or 
four  years  afterward,  with  two  pretty  babies, 
Baying  that  ho  had  gr,m  to  look  for  work,  and 
■     would  Huon  come  for  her. 


Light  iiomo 
IS  Ilia  at- 
■5  subordiii- 
g,  ami  had 

tho  camp, 
3,  not  only 
;he  oC&ooi's. 
I  living,  and 

tho  future 
lau.  Uoing 
he  lived  ou 
to  leave  the 
lot  doing  80 

rcaty  of  her 

mine,  Fanny 

with  liiui  to 

had   ncilhor 

many  other 

•ror  when  too 

thcr  throe  or 

)rctty  babies, 

for  work,  and 


ON  THE  MOUNT. 


171 


"  We  provided  a  room  for  her  in  a  house 
jiear  by,  and  did  all  in  our  power  to  rouse  her 
to   do   something   for   herself.     But    slie   was 
always  looking  for  her  husband,  and  getting 
ready   to   follow   him   at   a   moment's  notice. 
We  eould  not  learn  that  he  had  been  unkind 
to  her,  but  folt  sure  he  would  never  provide  for 
her ;  and  so  wo  strove  to  keep  her  where  we 
could  see  that  her  children    were  cared  for. 
One  day,  after  long  and  anxious  waiting,  she 
came  to  my  mother,  almost  wild  with  hope  de- 
ferred.    She  had  an  impression  that  Sam  was 
in   danger  of  being  pressed   into   the   service 
again,  and  bogged  for  a  guinea  to  take  her  to 
the  seaport  where  the  men-of-war  were  lyino-. 
Leaving  hor  little  ones  with  a  kind  widow  who 
lived  in  the  house   with  her,  she  set  off,  and 
was  never  hoard  of  afterward.     We  feared  at 
liifst  that  she  had  met  lior  husband,  and   with 
him  had  deserted  the  children  ;  but  we  finally 
duculod,  from  her  excited   manner  when  she 
lift  118,  that  she  had  destroyed  herself  in  a  fit 
of  discouragement.     Her  poor  old  mother  paid 
out  nil    her  wagos  for  tho  board  of  tho  littlo 


♦1 


i 


mm 


:».. 


ft" 


172  OEMS  OF  THE  HOG. 

gh-ls,  and  I  clothed  them.     But  lictty  Bond's 
heart  broke  under  the  dreadful    suspense  of 
watching   and   waiting   for  the   return  of  her 
only  child  ;  and  then  the  little  ones  were  left 
alone   in  the   world.     My   brother   felt   some 
compunctions  of  conscience  for  having  brought 
tlie  young  man  to  the  house,  and  he  paid  their 
board  while  he  lived.     Since  his  death,  I  have 
done  so,  but  I  fear  thoy  are  sadly  neglected  for 
all  that.     Previous  to  my  motlier's  sickness  we 
had  discussed  several  plans  for   their  benefit, 
none  of  which  could  bo  carried  out  then.     I 
have  thought  that,  perhaps,  after  we  are  all 
a  little  rested,  you    would    take  the  care  of 
them.     Wo  shaU  have  this  large  house  to  our- 
Belves,  and  can    easily  spare    two    rooms  for 
them.    Tlieir  table  could  be  sp-ead  with  yuurs, 
and  you  could  teach  and    train  them  as  you 
please -you  may  have  them  %•  your  children, 
if  you  like,  and  I  will  bear  all  Mieir  expenses." 
Peggy  throw  up  her  hands  ax  amazement, 
and  then  clasped  them  tightly,  and  raised  her 
eyes  in  thankfulness  toward  heaven. 

"Ooh,  but    there    would    be    work    for    a 


iJctty  Boml'a 
Buspenso  of 
return  of  her 
lies  were  loft 
er   i'oU   some 
aviiig  brought 
he  paid  their 
death,  I  have 
neglected  for 
's  sickness  we 
their  benefit, 
out  then.     I 
or  we  are  all 
e  the  care  of 
house  to  oiu'- 
wo    rooms  for 
Bad  with  yours, 
L  them  as  you 
your  children, 
leir  expenses." 
In   amazement, 
and  raised  her 
aven. 
0    work    for    a 


ON  THE  MOUNT.  17?, 

quane!*'  she  said,  "and  I'd  niver  weary  o' 
loviii'  and  laborin'  for  the  poor  lambiea.  And, 
'dear  lady,  I'd  be  more  grateful  than  I  can  iver 
tell,  both  to  God  and  to  ye,  for  the  lovely  work 
and  the  peaceful  home,  without  even  goiu' 
abroad  to  seek  ather." 

Miss  Grey  soon  changed  Peggy's  peasant-like 
appearance  into  that  of  a  comely  matron,  by 
exchanging  the  coarse  cotton  gowns  she  had 
brought  with  her  and  which  she  had  worn  in 
the  sick-room,  for  neat  black  dresses.  The 
tliick  cambric  caps,  with  full,  broad  frills,  were 
exchanged  for  those  of  thin  muslin,  while  a 
kerchief  of  the  same  material  was  crossed 
under  the  half-open  waist,  over  her  bosom. 
Her  hair  though  turning  grey  was  still  abund- 
ant;  l)ut  her  face  was  far  paler  and  thinner 
tiian  that  of  the  Peggy  of  other  days. 

Not  long  after  the  conversation  just  repeated. 
Miss  Grey  brought  little  Bessie  and  Marion 
Wells  to  the  pleasant  upper  rooms  she  had  had 
prepared  for  them,  and  which  she  playfully 
called,  "  The  Orphan  Asylum." 


mmm 


mmm 


GEMS  OF  THE  BOO. 

At  tho  tirst  sight  of  their  sad  little  faces, 
Pcgtry  took  tlieiu  both  to  her  heart.    They  wore 
that  dci)re9sed  look  which  told  there  had  been 
HO  play  for  them,  and  they  moved  about  as  if 
fearful  of  tho  souud  of  their  own  footfall  s.    The 
poor  things  had  been  well  fed  and  clothed  and 
sheltered  by  Miss  Grey's  generosity  ;  but  they 
had  not  been  loved  or  petted  ;  and  these  are  as 
important  items  in  tho   training  of  a  merry, 
happy  child  as  are  food  and  clothing.    If  they 
had  been  defrauded  of  this  hitherto,  they  wore 
to  be  fully  repaid  in  tho  future. 

Bessie  Wells  was  a  tall,  thin  child  of  six 
.years,  whose  sad  blue  eyes  were  always  swim- 
ming in  tears  that  were  never  shed,  and  over- 
hung by   lashes  so  long  and   dark  that   they 
Boemcd  not  to  belong  by  right  to  blue  eyes  and 
fair  hair.    Marion,  four  years  and  a  half  old, 
vho    called  herself   "  Madie,"    was   a   sweet, 
curly-headed  child,  who  seemed  ever  craving 
tho  lost  attentions  which  are  the  just  due  of 
babyhood.     She  had  not  been   ten  minutes  iu 
the  house,  before  she  had  clambed  on  Peggy's 


ifel 


■fl 


.'?  -"M  V  l"i!"(W 


[  little  faces, 
fc.  They  wore 
ere  had  been 
d  about  as  if 
ootfalls.  The 
i  clothed  and 
ity ;  but  they 
d  these  are  as 
H  of  a  merry, 
ling.  If  they 
rto,  they  wore 

1  child  of  six 
always  swim- 
shed,  and  over- 
ark  that   they 
blue  eyes  and 
md  a  half  old, 
was   a   sweet, 
i  ever  craving 
le  just  due  of 
ten  minutes  in 
bed  on  Peggy's 


ON  THE  MOUNT. 


175 


knee  to  stroke  lier  motherly  face,  and  to  say, 
"  P-ctty,  kind  lady ;  Madie  loves  you,  and  will 
bo  a  good  child." 

A  happy  and  tiseful  life  was  now  begun  in  ear- 
nest by  this  faithful  woman.    God  had  sent  work 
to  her  hand  in  answer  to  her  prayers,  and  she 
had  accepted  it  as  a  great  honor.     She  devoted 
lier  first  morning  hours  to  Miss  Grey,  and  then 
fled  to  her  little  charge,  who   watched  eagerly 
for  her  foot-steps  on  the  stair.   When  their  real 
wants  were  ill  supplied  for  the  day,  she  applied 
herself  to    making  little  garments  for  them, 
under  Miss   Grey's  direction ;  and   while   she 
sewed  or  knitted,  she  told  them  stories  from  the 
Bible,  and  taught  them  verses  from  «  Watts' 
Hymns  for  the  Infant  Mind,"  as  well  as  tho 
pleasant  old  stories  in  verse  by  Jane  Taylor. 
When  they  grew  weary,  she  took  first  one  and. 
then  the  other  on  lior  knee,  and  sang  to  them, 
or   amused  them  with  the  toys   and   pictures 
Miss  Grey  had  provided.     This  sndden  transit 
from  a  gloomy  room  in  a  tenement,  where  were 
three  or  four    baby    boarders    younger  timn 
themselves,  who  must  never  be  wakened  by  a 


iTT^ 


176  OEMS  OF  THE  BOO.       ' 

laugh  or  a  cry,  was  like  passing  from  a  cheer- 

less  and  silent  cave  into  a  blooming  paradise. 

And  Peggy  stood  on  this  high  mount  with 
"the  great  peace"  still  in  her  soul  unbroken. 
While  she  prayed  without  ceasing  for  the  lost 
one  far  away,  she  always  added,  "Have  him 
in  Thy  hand,  and  where  could  be  a  safer 
place  ?  " 


•om  a  clieer- 
r  paradise, 
mount  with 
I  unbroken, 
for  the  lost 
"  I  lave  him 
be  a  safer 


] 

se: 
ro 
po 
he 
tri 

Ini 
do 


the 
too 
losi 
eflFc 
par 
I 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

AN  AWAKENED    CONSCIENCE. 

FOR  four  long  years  the  black  cloud  hung 
over  Daisy  Farm ;  for  four  long  years  the 
serpent  with  a  human  face  moved  through  the 
rooms  of  the  cottage;  for  four  long  years  its 
poisoned  sting  rankled  and  festered  in  the 
heart  of  the  exiled  wife,  wlio  was  patient  iu  her 
tribulation,  but  in  tribulation  still. 

Great  changes  had  now  taken  place  ii).  the 
humble  little  hamlet  of  KiUyrooke,  both  by 
deutli  and  emigration.  « 

Tiie  poor,  useless  head  of  the  family  over 
the  way  from  Daisy  Farm,  who  had  long  been 
too  indolent  to  do  any  thing  but  breathe,  had 
lost  the  energy  required  even  for  that  small 
eflFort,  and  so,  one  day,  without  any  other  ap- 
parent  cause,  he  slipped  out  of  life. 
A  year  previous  to  this  event,  his  two  eldest 

18  1T7 


mma 


,»*««Stt*A«T*<«3.?'; 


■-•^'*^"fc«-^^i;i«W'-^ws*ah*ia«i^^ 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-S) 


1.0 


iii    112.5 


I.I 


1^ 

In     "" 

•^  iU   III  2.2 


2.0 


18 


Photographic 

Sciences 
Corporation 


/^ 


1.25 

1.4 

^ 

< 6"     

► 

23  WIST  MAIN  ST*IIT 

WHSTIR.N.Y.  I^^IO 

(716)  I73-4S03 


Mmmmm"^ 


■■B 


1^ 


£p 


\ 


^ 


J 


CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHIVI/ICIVIH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microreproductions  /  Institut  Canadian  da  microraproductions  historlquas 


p 


o 


'le?* 


, .  «4i'i  KS."  a<i»«  iJMM  i.»l< 


lmt»./K<jyM«lMM)tM!«W 


..£^ 


mat 


t 


178 


OEMS  OF  THE  BOO. 


boys,  who  had  long  beoii  impatient  to  get*  off 
to  Australia,  but  could  never  got  money 
enough  for  their  passage,  were  unexpectedly 
treated  to  the  voyage  at  the  expense  of  a  gener- 
ous Government.  Tlio  haste  in  ti«e  case  was 
owing  to  some  little  "irregularities"  in  thoir 
business  —  the  deer-trade  ;  in  which  they  were 
accused  by  the  owner  of  Harploy  Hall,  of 
living  on  his  venison  rather  than  on  thoir  own 
potatoes.. 

The  younger  boys  who  were  largo  enough 
to  work  were  put  out  by  the  parisli  officers,  and 
the  improvident  mother  and  her  small  children 
were  glad  of  a  shelter  in  the  workhouse.  They 
were  scarcely  gone,  when  one  night,  not  long 
afterward,  a  bonfire  swept  away  all  troces  of 
that  poor  homo  of  sin  and  sorrow. 

The  intruder  at  Daisy  Farm  had  been  stoutly 
affirming  for  two  years  past  that  Peggy  was 
dead,  and  that  she  herself  was  married  to  John. 
Some  believed  her,  and  regarded  her  as  now  the 
rightful  mistress  of  the  cottage.  But  the  most 
respectable  among  the  people  kept  aloof  from 
her,  and  Father  Clakey  had  twice  ordered  her 


snt  to  get*  off 
get  money 
unexpectedly 
so  of  a  gencr- 
tiio  case  was 
3s"  ill  their 
ch  tliey  were 
ley  Hall,  of 
on  their  own 

argo  enough 
>  officers,  and 
nail  children 
10U80.  They 
;ht,  not  long 
all  traces  of 

• 

been  stoutly 
i  Peggy  was 
ried'  to  John, 
eras  now  the 
But  the  most 
t  aloof  from 
I  ordered  her 


AN  A  WAKENED  CONSCIENCE.  179 

out  of  the  church.  This  caused  her  great  un- 
easiness,  p,s  she  feared  she  might  die  without 
absolution,  and  be  denied  a  Christian  burial. 
She  tried  to  buy  the  old  man's  favor  with 
gifts  of  butter  and  eggs,  but  he  was  inexorable, 
aiid  sent  them  back  to  her  with  many  bitter 
reproofs. 

Paddy  had  well  nigh  lost  heart ;  he  had  car- 
tainly  lost  all  patience.  His  "grimaces"  at 
the  object  of  his  hatred;  his  faithfulness - 
John  called  it  « insolence »  — to  his  master; 
and  his  prayers  to  the  Virgin  had  all  failed  to 
right  matters  at  the  cottage. 

One  day,  Imving  been  reproved  for  careless- 
ness in  trimming  a  hedge,  he  turned  upon 
John,  saying,  "Don't  ye  be  rebukin'  mo  for  an 
onfaithful  sarvant!  I'm  honest  and  vprigbf 
andean  look  every  man  in  Ireland  sq  a.-,  iu 
the  eye,  and  that's  more  nor  my  mastht '  jan 
do !  My  sperit's  fearful  roused,  and  I  warn  yo 
it's  dangerous  triflin'  with  an  angered  lion! 
Some  day  ye'U  find  ather  yersilf  murdered,  or 
poor  Paddy  drownded  in  the  lough.  So  ye'U 
add  murder  to  yer  other  sins." 


180 


OEMS  OF  THE  BOO. 


John  groaned,  and  walked  away  a  few  steps, 
Tlicn  lie  turned  back,  and  said,  "  Ocli,  Faddy, 
Paddy,  if  yo  but  know  the  anguish  o'  my  heart 
yedpitynio  place  o'  'tortumv'  mo  thus!  If 
yo,  or  Mr.  Murray,  or  any  other  one  hinks  I'm 
at  aso,  ye'rc  sore  mistaken.  I'd  lay  down  my 
life  this  hour  to  mako  my  peace  with  God  and 
poor  dear " 

"  Hi,  there !  "  cried  Paddy,  «  don't  let  mo 
hear  that  name.  Why  don't  ye  lay  down  yer 
life,  then,  or  do  somethin'  elso  ?  " 

"  What  shall  I  do  ?  "  exclaimed  John. 

"  Say  ycr  prayers,"  replied  Paddy. 

"Paddy,  I  can't  pray.  When  I  tries  to 
spake  to  God,  that  poor  white  faco,  wet  with 
patient  tears,  comes  ntween  me  and  heaven," 
replied  John. 

"  0'  course  it  docs  !  "  cried  the  poor  fellow. 
"  Did  yo  think  God  would  hear  yo  and  sind  yo 
pace  till  yo  first  mako  a  turn  o'  things  at  tho 
cottage  ?  That  would  bo  like  a  poacher  askin' 
pardon  o'  tho  gintleman  at  tho  Hall,  at  tho 
same  time  he  was  loadiu'  his  guu  to  shoot 
more  door." 


a  few  steps, 
Och,  Faddy, 
o'  my  heart 
thus!  If 
!  hiiiks  I'm 
Y  down  my 
th  God  and 

>n't  let  mo 
'  down  yer 

ohn. 

I  tries    to 

),  wet  with 

heavon," 

)or  follow, 
nd  sind  yo 
ngs  at  tho 
her  askin' 
ill,  at  tho 
to  shoot 


^^  AWAKENED  CONSCIENCE.  181 

John  leaned  against  the  stile  where  Paddy 
was  Sitting,  pipe  in  mou.h,  taking  his  evening 
rest;  and  tho  tears  ran  down  his  cheeks 

"  I  wush  I'd  never  been  born!  "he  cried. 

I  Jish  yo  hadn't,"  answered  his  reprover. 

I  drnmed  last  night  that  yo  drove  off  tho 
«arpn,t,  and  that  then  tho  black  cloud  rolled 
away  and  tho  sun  shone  aboovo  us  all,  and 
that  Mammy  Honey  came  back  to  'bido  with 

us,and  to  watch  us  thatwo'd  never  fall  into 
8111  more,"  said  John,  mournfully. 

"  1^"«I»  •'  "  cried  Paddy,  scornfully.    »  A  man 
more  nor  six  feet  high,  weighln'  two  hundred 
pound,  might  behave  himself  civil  without  his 
bl-cd  mother  lavin'  heaven,  where  she's  so 
comfortable,  to  come  and  look  after  him !    But 
'"  gl^d  to  see  yor  heart  getti.i'  a  bit  soft 
avcn   at  this  late  day,  and  if  it  hadn't  been 
-do  ofli..  it  would  ha'  melted  long  ago 

Think  o'  tho  holy  tachin'o' yer  mother,  and 
tiic  hue  cxami>Ie  o'  mrjsclf." 

"What  Shan  I  do?"  cried  John  again,  in 
his  anguish  and  indecision. 

"  ^"^  ^°  rcmcmbor  tho  old  fablo  o'  the  rat 


% 


I  I! 


r... 


182 


GEMS  OP  THE  BOO. 


tliat  was  caught  in  a  trap  ?  She  ate  her  own 
head  off  rather  than  give  the  waitin'  cat  the 
satisfaction  o'  doin'  it .  Now  if  ye  can  think 
o'  no  better  way  o'  escape,  jump  into  the  longh 
and  drown  ycrsclf,"  remarked  Paddy,  com- 
pose lly. 

"  But  I  have  a  soul,  man  !  "  cried  John. 

"  Och,  have  ye  ?  I  tliought  ye  hadn't,"  was 
the  reply.  "Sure,  it's  a  strange  soul  for  a 
Christian,  ony  way." 

"  I'm  not  a  Christian  and  niver  was,  Paddy." 

"  Indade !  Are  ye  a  hathen,  then '! "  The 
simple  man  knew  of  no  middle  ground  between 
the  two  conditions. 

"  Not  just  quite  a  hathen,"  replied  his  mas- 
ter, f 

"  What  are  ye,  then  ? " 

"  I'm  a  great  sinner,  Paddy." 

"  Ye  niver  spoke  a  truer  word,  masther,  and 
yet  I  can't  just  comprehend  how  ye  were  niver 
a  Christian  in  yer  best  days  '  "  . 

"No,  never,  in  heart,  like  them  two  wo 
loved,  and  heaps  like  them  in  Cloynmally. 

"  I'd  give  all  I  have  in  the  world,  Paddy,  to 


•f... 


AN  A  WAKENED  CONSCIENCE. 


183 


ate  her  ovrn 
tin'  cut  the 
can  think 
o  the  lough 
addy,  coin- 
John. 

adn't,"  was 
soul  for  a 

IS,  Paddy." 
n?"  The 
ud  between 

3d  his  mas- 


isther,  and 
were  niver 

a  two   we 

nally. 

,  Paddy,  to 


hoar  Mr.  Murray's  voice  again  in  the  church, 
and  to  got  a  kind  word  from  his  lips,"  said 
John,  niournfally. 

"  Well,  tho  church   door  is  open   and  his 
tongue  is   not  palsied  yit,  I  belave,"  replied 
Paddy.     »  But  if  ye'd  lilce  a  sarmon  from  one 
that's  nathcr  priest  nor  parson,  yc'U  get  it  by 
goin'  to  the  lough  on  Sunday  next.     There's  a 
fine  young  jintlcman    stoppin'    at    Mr.  Mur- 
ray's, tliat  has  a  mind  to  spake  on  religion  to 
thim    as    niver    goes    to  that    church;    and 
he's  given  word  that  as  the  young  men  gathers 
by  the  water  to  fish  and  to  skip  stones  and  the 
lilio,  that  he'll  bo  there  among  thim.     lie's 
been  at  games  witli  the  Cloynmally  boys  tho 
week  gone,  pitchin'  quoits  ;  and  tliey  say  he's 
a  fine  hand  at  a  game." 

"  We'll  go  to  hear  him,  Paddy,"  said  John, 
"  and  raay  bo  he'll  put  a  bit  o'  strength  into 


me. 


*'  lie  ?  Ye  could  take  him  up  in  one  hand 
and  hould  him  out  at  arm's  lingth ! "  cried 
Paddy. 


184 


OEMS  OF  TBE  BOO. 


"Och,  but  he  may  havo  a  bigger  and 
stronger  heart  nor  I,"  said  John. 

"  Very  like  ho  has,  or  it's  a  poor  one,"  re- 
turned  the  reprover,  in  language  more  faithful 
tlian  delicate. 

"  Paddy,  lad,  why  can  ye  not  show  me  some 
marcy  ?  "  cried  John. 

"Because  the  Protestant  Bible  taches  to 
show  marcy  to  tiio  marciful  only.  And  on 
thim  grounds  what  right  have  yo  to  ask  or  ix- 
pect  tinder  regards  from  a  vartuous  and  onera- 
ble  man  like  mesilf !  "  • 

"  Yer  mistaken,  Paddy.  It  says,  '  Blissed 
are  tlie  marciful,  for  they  shall  obtain  marcy  ; ' 
but  it  does  not  say  others  shall  not  find  it. 
The  world  is  full  o'  proofs  o'  God's  pity  and 
marcy  to  many  that's  gone  astliray  from  him. 
But  none  ever  got  so  far  wrong  as  mesilf,  after 
such  lovely  trainin'  from  the  cradle  up ; "  said 
John. 

"Will,  thin,  I'm  not  as  larned  as  Mr. 
Murray,  to  instruct  nor  yet  to  condimn  yo ;  so 
I'll  kape  yo  waitin'  for  consolation  till  yo  sees 


igger   and 

r  one,"  re- 
ro  faithful 

J  me  some 

taclies   to 

And  on 

ask  or  ix- 

nd  onera- 


AN  AWAKENED  CONSCIENCE.  185 

this  new-como  jintleman  ;  I  thin  will  fall  on 
him  with  puzzlin'  questions  on  religiou,  and 
see  what  he's  made  on  !  If  there's  ony  pluck 
in  liim  to  stand  his  ground  agin  my  church,  as 
if  he  knew  the  difference  in  the  two,  we'll 
trust  him  with  yer  case,  — though  it's  a 
Bhamcful  and  disgraceful  and  onrispictable  one 
to  intertain  company  with !  We'll  bo  first  at 
the  lough,  masther,  on  Sunday,  waitiu'  Lim 
there." 


*  Blissed 
marcy  ; ' 
t  find  it. 
pity  and 
om  him. 
iilf,  after 
>;"  said 

as  Mr. 

1  yo ;  so 

ye  sees 


!i 


111 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

LAT-PBEACHING   AT  THE  LOCOH. 

ON  the  following  Sunday  afternoon  a  crowd 
gathered    around    the    lough,  the    usual 
rallyhig-place  when    mass    and    dinner  were 
over.     Tlicy  had  been  warned  against  listening 
to  heresy;    but   curiosity   was   stronger   than 
fear.      Some   came   to   hear   about   games   in 
England;  some  to  louic  at  the  strange  gentle- 
man ;  and  others  to  watch  for  heresy  and  put  a 
stop  to  its  utterance.     John  and  Paddy  were 
there  among  the  rest.     Presently  there  was  a 
stir;  and  those  who  were  fishing  drew  in  their 
lines    and    wound     them     up.      All    pressed 
towards  a  grassy  bank   overhung  by  four  old 
willows;  for  there  the  Murray  boys  appeared 
with   their  guest,   a   "boyish  jintlcman "   of 
twenty-one  or  two,  with  a  very  slender  frame, 
and  a  face  as  fair  and  delicate  as  a  girl's.     lie 

186 


)n  a  crowd 
the  usual 
riner  were 
it  listening 
nger  than 

games  in 
ge  gciitle- 

and  put  a 
addy  were 
ere  was  a 
w  in  thrir 
1  pressed 
^  four  old 

appeared 
man 
ler  frame, 
irl's.     Ho 


LAT-PREACniNO  AT  THE  LOUQH.         187 

I'cld  a  book  in  his  hand,  the  sight  of  which 
caused  alarm  at  once. 

"  Now,  boys,"  muttered  an  old  man,  "  it's 
just  as  yo  war  warned !  He's  one  o'  thim 
artful  Methodises— a  Bible  reader  — a  fearful, 
dangerous  fellow !  " 

The  words  caught  the  young  man's  car,  but 
not  letting  that  bo  known,  he  said,  «  Good-day, 
friends.     What    a  beautiful  place    you  have' 
here  for  rest  and  exercise!    I  never  saw  a 
lovelier  sheet  of  water  than  this,  nor  a  moro 
beautiful  playground  ;  and  as  I've  been  great 
at  games,  I've  looked  well  to  the  grounds.     I 
heard  at  Cloynmally  that  you  always  met  hero 
on  Sunday,  and  so  I've  come  to  see  you,  and 
talk  a  little  to  you  about  things  ihat  we  all  be- 
lieve.    I'm    no    minister,   and    can't  preach. 
I'm  only  going  to  talk;  and  you  have  as  good 
a  right  to  talk  here  as  I  have.     So  any  of  you 
may  speak  out  and  ask  questions,  or  contradict 
me,  if  I  say  what's  not  right." 

"  What  book's  yon  in  your  hand  ?  "  asked 
the  old   schoolmaster,  who  had  better  been 


I'l  i 


188 


GSMS  OF  THE  BOQ. 


Styled  « tl.0  village  child's-nursc,"  as  his  ten 
pupils  were  too  young  to  learn  from  books. 

"  Tins  book,  friend,  is  the  Douay  version  of 
tl.o  I]iblo,  prepared  by  a  Catholic  priest  and 
u«ed  in  your  church.  I  will  not  open  it  unless 
you  wish.  I've  not  come  here  to  argue,  but  to 
talk  on  things  that  you  and  I  agree  in.  We 
will  let  other  things  go." 

"But  ye're  a  Protestant?"  asked  a  voice 
from  the  crowd. 
"  Yes,  I  am." 

"Then  in  what  can  ye  agree  with  U8?'» 
asked  the  schoolmaster,  who  regarded  himself 
as  the  spy  and  watchman  of  the  hour. 

"Oh,  in  many  things,  friend,"  replied   the 
youth.    "  You  believe  in  a  God  who  made  the 
world  and  all  who  dwell  in  it,  and  who  sends 
t lie  sun  and  the  rain  to  ripen  our  harvests, 
that  we  may  have  bread,  and  so  live  ?  " 
"  Oh,  sure,  wo  believe  in  him !  " 
"  Och,  yes,  yes  !  "  replied  many  voices 
"And  so  do  I,  friends.     You  believe  that 
God    sent    His  Son,  Jesus    Christ,  into  the 


''"'•'    ' "'  "        '  '  'JIliiriBll'lfellluljitM 


as  his  ten 
books, 
version  of 
priest  and 
t  it  unless 
:ue,  but  to 
>  iu.     We 

d  a  voice 


ith  us?" 
i  himself 

jlied  the 
made  the 
ho  sends 
harvests, 


LAT-PREACniNO  AT  THE  LOUQH.         189 

world,  and  that  Fo  died  on  the  cross  to  save 
all  who  trust  in  Him,  don't  you  ?  " 
"  0'  course  we  bolaves  that." 
"  Yes,  yes."    "  ludade  wo  does ! "  were  the 
varied  replies. 

"And  so  do  I.    And  you  believe  in  the 
"Virgin  Mary,  too,  don't  you  ?  " 
«  Ay,  do  wo  ;  but  ye  don't,"  said  a  man. 
"  You're  mistaken,  friend ;  I  do  believe  in 
her  and  I  honor  her.     She  was  '  blessed  among 
women.'    God  honored  her  above  all  women 
ever  born  before  or  after  her,  in  making  her 
the  mother  of  His  Son,  the  Redeemer  of  the 
world." 

I    thought    all   the   Protestants  despised 
Mary,"  said  one. 

"  None  but  a  great  scoffer  could  despise  her 
whom  God  so  greatly  honored,"  said  the 
young  man. 

"  But  you  don't  pray  to  her  ?  "  said  the 
schoolmaster. 

"No,  I  pray  only  to  God,  the  Father,  Son 
and  Holy  Spirit;  but  this  is  a  point  on  which 
we  disagree ;  and  we  were  to  talk  of  those  only 


il.jiji.  ,iiujjjiuii;|jiii(i 


190 


GEMS  OF  THE  BOG. 


OH   wliicli    we  think    alike.     You  believe  io 
Peter,  don't  7011  ?  " 

"  Pctor  ?  Oh,  sure  we  do  ;  he  it  is  as  holds 
the  keys." 

"  You  believe  tliat  he  wrought  miracles  ?  " 

"  Surely ;  all  the  saints  do  that." 

*'  Would  you  like  to   hear    from  your  own 

Bible  how  Peter  and  Jolui  healed   the  lame 

mail  at  the  gate  of  the  temple  ?  " 

"  Are  you  just  sure  it's   not  the  Protestant 

Bible?"    asked  a  timiJ-looking   man  in  the 

crowd. 

"  Quite  sure,  friend.  You  may  take  it  and 
show  it  to  Father  Clakey,  and  if  he  says  it  is 
not  the  one  he  uses,  but  a  Protestant  version, 
you  may  do  what  you  please  with  it." 

So  they  all  sat  motionless  while  ho  road  the 
narratives  of  the  healing  of  the  lame  man,  and 
Of  Christ's  walking  on  the  water,  stilling  the 
tempest,  and  feeding  the  multitude.  When  ho 
.'Josed  the  book,  ho  said,  "  You  notice,  friends, 
tliat  when  Jesus  saw  the  multitude  lie  had 
compassion  on  them.  It  is  not  on  them  alone, 
but  on  us  here,  and  on  all  who  are  in  want 


■'''a'l*ilht««JU»i«»t»»ii«. 


iwtu'<.ii»iT.iiniiwai 


niMMti  Miiaitm 


■■ 


a  believe  ia 

it  is  as  holds 

niracles  ?  " 

u  your  own 
3(1   the  lamo 

0  Protestant 
man  ill  the 

take  it  and 
lie  says  it  is 
ant  version, 
t." 

ho  road  tho 
le  man,  and 

(^filling  tho 
Wlion  ho 
ice,  friends, 
Ldo  IIo  had 
tliom  alone, 
re  in  want 


LAYPREACHINO  AT  THE  LOUGH.         191 

and  sorrow.  His  compassion  has  not  failed 
now  that  IIo  has  returned  to  His  glory.  IIo 
still  hoars' and  sees,  and  is  ready  to  grant  what 
we  need.  Tliat  multitude  were  hungry.  Is 
there  any  one  hero  wlio  ever  knew  what  it  was 
to  be  hungry,  when  tliero's  no  food  in  tho  cot- 
tage and  no  money  to  buy  any  ?  " 

"Ay!"  " 'Deed  there  is !  "  "Few  but  has 
known  it,  sir!"  "Yo'vo  heard,  in  England, 
o'  tho  famine  we  had  hero  when  the  potatoes 
failed,  and  the  great  sickness  camo  ?  "  These 
were  among  the  many  answers  to  his  question. 
"  Yes,  I've  heard  all  that." 
"I  wonder  if  there's  ono  here  hungry 
to-day  ?  "  he  asked. 

"I  bees,  ycr  honor,"  said  a  trembling  old 
woman,  who  sat  on  the  grass  near  him,  "  and 
not  a  handful  o'  meal  in  the  house  ! " 

"  Tiien  here's  a  crown  for  you,  poor  friend," 
said  the  young  man.  "  Jesus  has  compassion 
on  you,  and  perhaps  He  sent  mo  here  to  tell 
you  so." 

An  old  man  rose  to  his  feet,  but  sat  down 
again,  as  if  too  modest  to  make  his  plea. 


mad 


192 


GESrS  OF  THE  BOO. 


i  . 


"Who's  that,  boys?"  askel  tho  gentleman. 

"It's  ould  Jemmy    Flynn,  a    real  dacent 
body  ! "  cried  several  at  once. 

"  Then  here's  a  crown  for  him  too,  and  I've 
Btill  another  for  any  one  tliat's  poor  or  sick. 
But  I'm  sure  all  that  can  work  have  too  much 
honor  to  take  what  sliould  'oo  given  to  the 
needy."  Strange  as  it  may  seem,  among  a 
class  proverbial  as  beggars,  no  one  else  applied 
for  help. 

"  Hunger  is  not  the  greatest  sorrow,"  con- 
tinued the  young  man.  "  If  tliero  is  any  one 
hero  with  other  troubles,  remember  Jesus  ia 
among  us,  and  Ho  has  compassion  on  you." 

"  PIusc,  sir,  I  lost  my  baby,  and  my  heart's 
broke,  and  I  can't  ate  nor  slape  I'm  that 
hungry  for  him.  My  arms  is  so  empty  they 
aches  all  day  and  all  night,"  said  a  pale 
woman,  pressing  through  the  crowd. 

"  Jesus'  own  mother  had  her  heart  broken 
too,  when  tlio  cruel  Jews  were  crucifying  her 
Son.  He  pitied  her,  and  He  told  John  to  take 
her  for  his  mother,  and  to  comfort  her,  and  ho 
did  BO.    Ho  will  comfort  you  too,  if  you  ask 


wwimwrixnii,,.,. 


gentleman, 
eal  dacent 

0,  and  I've 
or  or  sick. 
I  too  much 
311  to  the 
among  a 
so  appliod 

ow,"  con- 
J  any  one 
'  Jesus  is 
on  you." 
ly  heart's 
I'm  that 
ipty  they 
i    a   pale 

■t  hrokon 
fying  hor 
n  to  take 
',  and  ho 
you  ask 


LAT-PREACmNO  AT  THE  LOUQH.  193 
Him,  and  fill  your  soul  with  His  love,  so  that 
you  can  think  with  joy  of  your  haby,  and  of  the 
time  when  you  shall  take  it  again  in  those 
poor  acliing  arms,"  said  the  stranger,  with  pity 
in  his  voice. 

The  people,  finding  he  had  a  word  for  all, 
pressed  around  him  and  began  telling  him  their 
sorrows,  half  a  dozen  speaking  at  once. 

At  last  ho  said,  «  Let  me  say  to  each  one  of 
you,  no  matter  what  your  sorrow  is,  — or  your 
sins,  eitlior,— Jesus  has  compassion  on  you." 

All  tills  time  John  and  Paddy  had  been  sit- 
ting   under    a   willow    behind    tiie    stranger. 
Paddy    now    touched    his    elbow    and    said, 
"  'Dade,  sir,  if  I  should  till  yo  my  throubles, 
ye'd  niver  belavo  me.   Ye'd  think  I  was  makin' 
lip  lies  to  amuse  yo  ! "     The  young  man  pro- 
bably saw  that  it  would  bo  like  letting  loose  a 
torrent,  if  he  began  to  talk  with  one  who  bore 
so  little  resemblance  to  a  mourner;  so  ho  just 
bade  iiim  .emember  what  ho  had  said  to  the 
others ;  and,  thanking  them  for  their  civility 
and  bidding   them  good-day,  he    was    about 
leaving,  when  one  of  the  young  men  called 


194 


OEMS  or  THE  Boa. 


\ 


' 


out,  « But,  sir,  we  heard  you  was  to  tell  us 
about  the  games  ye  have  in  England.  Will 
ye  stop  a  bit  and  try  a  hand  at  pitchiu' 
quoits  ?  " 

"  Not  to-day,  my  good  fellow;  God  gives  us 
six  dajs  to  ourselves,  but  on  this  one,  the  first 
day  of  the  week,  on  which  the  Saviour  rose 
from  tlio  dead,  He  commands  us  not  to  do  our 
own   works    nor    think    our    own    thoughts, 
but  to  keep  it  holy  unto  Him.     Come  here  at 
BuuHct  on  Tuesday,  and  I  will  meet  you  as  a 
boy,  at  healthful  sport.     To-day  I  came  as   a 
Christian,  to  toll  you  of  Him  whom  my   soul 
lovoth,  and  whom  I  want  the  whole  world  to 
love.    Take  this  Bible,  schoolmaster,  a»id  make 
sure  I  have  not  deceived  you." 

As  he  turned  to  go,  John  rose  and  followed 
him.  "  You  don't  think,  sir,"  ho  said  to  him 
in  a  low  tone,  « that  He  could  have  compassion 
on»»e.  I'm  such  a  fearful  sinner!  I've  been 
a  hypocrite,  and  a  Pharisee,  and  all  that's  evil. 
0'  course  you've  heard  o'  »ie  — John  Shee- 
ban." 

"No,  never,"  replied  the  young  man. 


i  to  tell  us 
aud.  Will 
at  pitcblu' 

od  gives  us 
le,  the  first 
viour  rose 
t  to  do  our 

thoughts, 
me  licre  at 

you  as  a 
same  as  a 
t  my  soul 

world  to 
and  make 

i  followed 
d  to  him 
)mpas8iou 
I've  beea 
Imt's  evil. 
)hu  Siiee- 

in.     ■■ '" 


LA  T.PREACmm  AT  THE  LOVQB.         195 

wn'mT""'  ^''^'  I  "'««gl't  the  whole 
worldhadheerdo'me-audwascursiu'u,eby 
this  ture  !    Didu't  Mr.  Murray  tell  ye  o'  me 

aud  the  home  ? '' 

"Not  a  word,frieud;  but  unless  your  sius 

are  redder  thausearlet  aud  deeper  thauerim- 
Bon  Jesus  has  compassion  on  you,  and  will 
forgive  you." 

"Well,  sir,  will  ye  ask  Mr.  Murray  if  I,e 
Innks  there  is  power  enough  in  Heaven  to 

God  r' ""''  ""'"''"*  ^'''''^^"^  *'"^  •'*"«««<^  °f 

J^.  v"  r'""'"'  ^^  P^^'-  ™'^»' ^"d  he  will 
say,  Yes,  and  Jesus  will  say  unto  you,  «  Thv 
su^are  forgiven  thee;  go  anc  sin  no  more.'  " 
Had  Protestants  built  a  church  iuKillyrooke 
and  sent  a  minister  to  preach  in  it,  they  could 
not  thus  have  accomplished  as  much  for  the 

people  as  cMd  that  almost  boy,  with  his  heart 
full  of  love  for  Christ  and  of  zeal  in  His  service. 
1  he  Bible  was  pronounced  a  "Catholic"  one 
by  the  priest,  and  so  the  stranger's  word  was 
verified. 


196 


GEMS  OF  THE  BOO. 


Tho  compassion  of  Jesus  aud  the  miracles 
by  whicii  He  proved  it  were  the  themes  in 
many  a  poor  homo  that  Sunday  night ;  and 
duiMig  tlio  three  or  four  woeks  of  his  college 
vacation,  that  young  lay-preacher  did  a  great 
work  for  those  cottagers.  He  broke  down  tiio 
barriers,  so  that  after  that,  any  man  whom 
they  respected  could  get  an  audience  at  the 
lough,  while  he  read  portions  of  Scripture  from 
the  Douay  version  and  made  comments  on  it ; 
carf  being  used  not  to  arouse  prejudice  or  fear 
by  openly  assailing  the  Bomish  church. 


% 


"wwMniimri^mBai 


m^ 


)  miracles 
themes  in 
liglit;  and 
Ins  cullcge 
lid  a  great 
do\^a  tiie 
lan  whom 
ue  at  the 
)turo  from 
iiits  oil  it ; 
ice  or  fear 
h. 


CHAPTER  XVni. 

A   VISIT  OF    MEBCT. 

Ty  HEN  the  young  stranger  returned  to  the 
T  ?  parsonage,  he  reported  his  doings  to  Mr. 
Murray,  who  had  been  too  wise  to  accompany 
Imn.  When  he  delivered  John  Sheehan'a 
incssage,  a  shadow  passed  over  the  minister's 
face. 

"He  has  indeed  made  desolation  in  both 
church  and  home,"  he  said,  "  and  only  for  the 
abounding  mercy  and  grace  of  God  I  should 

.avc  no  hope  for  him !  He  ran  well  when  none 
iHudered,  but  he  was  a  poor,  weak  creature, 
^.tbout  Christian  principle.  His  parents  were 
P'llars  in  the  church,  though  poor  and  unlet- 
torod  folk.  His  mother  was  as  nearly  a  saint 
as  any  mortal  who  ever  walked  the  earth. 
They  held  him  up,  perhaps  too  much. 

"If  one  was  kept  in  a  standing-stool  till  he 

107 


198 


OEMS  OF  THE  BOO. 


i 


was  fully  grown,  without  ever  using  his  own 
limbs,  I  think  ho  would  fall  as  soon  as  ho  at- 
tempted  to  stand  alone  ;  at  all  events,  the  first 
thrust  from  a  foe  would  lay  him  low ;  and  onco 
down,  ho  would  not  know  how  to  rise  again. 

"  This  man's  case  has  lain  heavily  on  my 
heart.  Such  has  been  the  good  name  they  bore, 
that  wo  always  pointed  the  cotters  to  that 
family  as  an  example  of  consistent  walk,  and 
of  the  power  of  the  Gospel  to  keep  men  pure 
even  when  surrounded  by  all  that  is  ungodly. 
The  course  this  last  one  of  the  race  has  pur- 
sued, has  outraged  the  feelings  of  even  the 
rude  and  ignorant  Papists  about  him,  and 
brought  contempt  on  the  Protestant  faiHi.  I 
went  three  times  to  pull  him,  if  might  be,  out 
of  the  fire,  but  he  made  oflF  and  would  not  see 
me  at  all,  as  if  well  pleased  with  the  fetters  in 
which  Satan  had  bound  him.  If  ho  is  ever 
humbled  and  reeds  help,  he  will  have  to  come 
to  me  for  it !  " 

The  young  gentleman  remained  silent,  and 
Mr.  Murray  saw  that  the  last  remark  did  not 
meet  his  approbation. 


1 


ng  his  own 
n  as  'lo  at- 
ts,  the  first 
;  and  onco 
36  again, 
ily  oil  my 
I  they  bore, 
rs   to  that 
walk,  and 
J  men  pure 
s  ungodly. 
J  has  pur- 
even  the 
him,   and 
t  faith.     I 
;ht  be,  out 
Id  not  see 
}  fetters  in 
le"  is  ever 
ve  to  come 

silent,  and 
k  did  not 


A   VISIT  OF  MERC  7. 


199 


"  You  may  think  I  am  severe,"  he  continued, 
"  but  you  never  saw  the  happy  homo  he  has 
made  desolate,  nor  the  saiut-like  woman  who 
has  meekly  forsaken  it  witiiout  a  word  of  cen- 
sure, or  even  a  farewell  to  the  minister  and  the 
church,  who  regarded  her  as  a  bright  and  shin- 
ing light  among  them,  and  who  felt  drawn 
heavenward  by  her  quiet  faith  and  humble  -^aL 
No,  I  shall  never  go  after  him ! " 

"And  yet,"  said  the  young  man,  "after  all 
this,  he  has  a  soul !  It  was  sinners,  and  not 
the  righteous,  that  Jesus  came  to  save ;  to  seek 
as  well  as  to  save." 

"  That  is  true,  and  we  must  be  careful  not 
to  stand  on  our  small  dignity  when  He  stooped 
BO  low,"  replied  the  good  minister,  rebuked  by 
tiie  faith  of  his  friend. 

"  You  know  brands  have  to  be  plucked  from 
the  burning,  sir.  They  cannot  walk  forth 
from  the  flames  themselves,"  continued  tijo 
guest. 

"True;  and  Sheehan  seems  to  have  been 
bound  hand  and  foot  by  the  enemy,  that  he 
might  not  only  lose  his  own  soul,  but  be  also  a 


200 


GEMS  OF  THE  BOO. 


cause  of  stuml.ling  to  many.  Pcrlmps  l.o  ou-H.t 
to  have  a  helping  hand,  but  if  I  si,o„ld  go'to 
'"'»  It  might  heal  the  wound    too  slightly      I 
core  not  how  sorely  ho  suffers,  „or  how  Ion.. 
As  he  opened  his  mind  to  you,  how   would  It 
do    for  you    to  take  his  case  in  hand,  and 
earn  whether  he  is  really  repeatant,  or  only 
longing  for  his  old  peace  and  respectability 
again  ? "  ■' 

"If  you  will  trust  me,  sir,  I   will  talk   with 
he   poor  man  gladly,   for    his  pale  face   has 
Launted  me    ever  since   he  whispered   those 
words  ,n  my  ear,"  replied  the  young  man. 

"  Well,  as  you  have  promised  to  meet  the 
boys  at  the  lough  on  Tuesday,  take  the  cottage 
on  your  way  home,  sending  my  boys  on  before 
you,"  said  Mr.  Murray. 

J  Would  it  not  be  a  good  work  to  close  this 
Sabbath  wUh,  sir?    To-morrow  or  Tuesday  he 

may  be  off  in  Ms  fields,  or  at  market,  or -lor 
-  one  of  us  may  be  in  eternity  !  For  my  own 
part,  sir  I  feel  that  I'm  working  by  the  hour 
for  my  Master,  and  may  be  called  in  from  the 
fidd  at  any  moment.    I  have  hardly  dared  to 


A   VISIT  OF  MEROT. 


201 


>8  ho  oii'jhfc 
oil  Id  go  to 
iliglitly.  I 
liow  long, 
would  it 
tiand,  and 
it>  or  only 
pectability 

talk   with 
faco   has 
red   tliose 
man. 

meet  the 
10  cottage 
on  before 

jIoso  this 
lesday  ho 
,  or  —  or 
my  own 
lie  hour 
from  the 
lared  to 


speak  the  word  'to-morrow'  for  six  montha 
past,  in  reference  to  work  for  souls,"  replied 
the  youth,  solemnly. 

Mr.  Murray  looked  up  in  surprise  at  « the 
boy,"  as  ho  called  him,  and  replied,  "  Yes,  if 
you  arc  not  too  weary,  go  now,  and  forget  wl'iat 
I  have  said   calculated   to  discourage  you,  re- 
mcmbcrhig   only  that  Ho   will  not  break 'the 
bruised  reed  nor  quench  the  smoking  flax.    If 
you  sec  one  spark  of  repentance,  fan  it;  but 
warn  him  not  to  feign  sorrow  for  sin,  under  a 
desire  to  regain  his  character  and  his  home.  If 
he  speaks  of  seeing  me,  advise  him  rather  to  go 
to  Elder  Peter.    I'm  too  easily  touched  by  the 
sight  of  sorrow  to  deal  with  the  like  of  him. 
Elder   Peter  is  a   son  of  thunder,  and  will  bo 
faithful  without  being  too  merciful." 

"  You  are  sure  he  will  not  '  smite  off  tho 
riglifc  ear'  instead  of  saying,  '  Go  and  sin  no 
moro '  ?  "  asked  the  young  man.  «  I  fear  that 
old  man,  with  his  stern  sense  of  justice,  may 
lack  the  charity  that  covers  a  multitude  of 


Bins 


"  Well,  then,  my  dear  boy,  send  Sheehan  to 


*■" 


202 


OEMS  OF  TUB  BOO. 


mo,  if  ho  desires  help ;  and  I  will  strive  to  read 
his  case,"  replied  the  raiiiister. 

Mr.  Murray    took    his   hat   and  cane,  and 

walked  on  witli  his  friend   as  far  as  the   litllo 

churchyard  which  surrounded  his  chapel.  They 

went  in  among  the  beds  of  the  lowly  sleepers, 

just  as  the  last  streak  of  the  golden  light  was 

fading  in  the  west.    Very  near  the  chapel  door 

Mr.  Murray  laid  liis  hand  on  a  plain   slato 

headstone,  saying,    "Hero  sleeps  tho  mother 

of  this  man  — a  woman  of  whom  the  world 

was  not  we -thy." 

And  then  in  a  few  words  ho  told  the  story 
of  her  strong,  pure  life,  and  ended  by  a  recital 
of  her  sou's  indignation  over  her  open  grave, 
because  a  half-idiot  had  pronounced  her  safe 
in  heaven  — tho  only  one  there  of  tho  race  or 
name !  «  And  yet,  seo  what  he  has  done  for 
lier  honor,"  he  said.  "  Now  go  on,  my  boy  ; 
you  will  have  tho  moon  for  your  company 
home,  and  may  God  go  with  you,  and  put 
words  into  your  mouth."  * 

Tho  young  stranger  stooped  and  plucked  a 
briar  twig  and  three  shamrock  blossoms  from 


A    VISIT  OF  MERCT. 


108 


ri?e  to  read 

cane,  and 
i  the  IUHq 
lapcl.  They 
7  sleepers, 

light  was 
shapel  door 
)lain  slato 
ho  mother 

the  world 

the  story 
y  a  recital 
)en  grave", 
1  her  safe 
10  race  or 
I  done  for 

my  boy; 

company 

and  put 

* 

clucked  a 
oms  from 


the  mound  where  Mammy  Honey  was  sleeping, 
and  (lien  passed  down  the  solitary  road  which 
lay  between  the  village  of  Cloynmally  and  the 
hamlet  of  Killyrooko. 

He  knew  the  cottage,  —  which  had  been  des- 
cribed to  him, -by  the  little  glass  window, 
AvhicL  glistened  through  the  vines  in  the  moon- 
light.  With  one  bound  he  sprang  over  the  stile, 
and  with  a  few  steps  reached  the  open  door. 
The  room  was  lighted  by  a  single  rush  taper, 
making  the  figures  within  very  indistinct.    Be- 
fore he  had  time  to  knock,  he  heard  Paddy  say, 
"  But,  Masther,  the  young  jintleman  said, '  All 
manner  of  sins'  would  be  forgive  to  people, 
and  I'm  sure  that  ye— vile  as  ye  are— haven't 
committed  them  all!    Ye  niver  stole  a  ha'peth 
from  any  body ;  ye  niver  warshipped  gods  o' 
wood  and  stone ;  ye  niver  worked  on  the  Sab- 
bath  day,  — ye,  nor  yer  donkey,  nor  yer  man- 
servant, nor  the  sthranger  that  war  within  yer 
gates ;  nor  ye  niver  invied  Harpley  Hall,  nor 

the  fine  things  in  it,  to  the  owner,  nor " 

«  Hark,  there,  Paddy  !  there's  some  neigh- 
bor knockin',"  interrupted  John.  «  Come  in !  " 


>i 


204 


GEMS  OF  TUB  BOO. 


"  Surely,"  he  continued,  rising  to  meet  the 
stranger,  on  whose  uncovered  head  the  moon 
was  shining,  "  this  is  not  the  young  jintloraan, 
come  to  visit  the  sperit  in  prison?  Did  yo 
give  my  luossago  to  dear,  dear  Mr.  Murray, 
sir?"  asked  John,  looking  earnestly  in  his' 
face. 

"  Yes." 

"And  what  said  he? -that  there  was  one 
ray  of  hope  for  mo  in  the  world  to  come  ?  In 
this  world  I  do  not  look  for  peace !  " 

"Ho  said,  my  friend,  that  hut  for  the 
abounding  mercy  and  the  free  grace  of  God  ho 
should  look  on  your  case  as  a  hopeless  one  ; 
but  that  if  you  truly  repent  of  your  sin  against 
God  — not  merely  feel  sorrow  for  the  wreck  of 
your  own  happiness  — there  is  hope." 

John  took  tho  gentleman's  hand  in  both  his 
own,  and  leading  him  lo  a  chair,  exclaimed, 
"  1  will  lay  my  heart  bare  before  ye  and  tell  yo 
all ;  and  thin  if  yo  think  God  can  listen,  I'll 
ask  ye  that  has  a  hearin'  at  tho  raarcy-seat,  to 
plead  with  Him  for  rao." 
"  I  do  not  war.t  to  hear  of  your  sins,  poor 


mm 


;  to  meet  the 
ad  the  moon 
iigjintloman, 
•n?  Did  yo 
Mr.  Murray, 
estly   ill   his 


ere  was  one 
)  come  ?    In 

[)ut    for  the 

0  of  God  lie 
•peloss  one  ; 
'  sin  against 
10  wreck  of 

in  both  his 
exclaimed, 
and  tell  yo 

1  listen,  I'll 
ircy-seat,  to 

•  sins,  poor 


A    VISIT  OF  MERCY.  205 

man.  I  only  want  to  know  that  you've  for- 
saken them,  and  are  penitent  before  God.  He 
came  not  to  call  tlie  righteous,  but  sinners  to 
repenhmce;  and  the  greater  your  sins,  the 
greater  your  need  of  Him,  and  the  greater 
Saviour  he  will  bo  to  you." 

"  Will,  will,  thin  there's  a  fine  chance  for 
him  ,  for  a  huger  sinner  ye'U  not  find  in  Killy- 
rooke!"  cried  Paddy,  who  had  been  sitting 
unnoticed  in  a  dark  corner  of  the  kitchen. 

"  Whist,  Paddy,"  said  his  master,  "  and 
listen  to  the  jintleman  while  he  talks  to  us." 

"  What  is  it,  friend,  that  troubles  you  ?  Is 
it  tliafc  your  respectability  and  peace  are  gone, 
or  that  your  soul  is  ia  danger  ?  " 

"  It  is  that  I  have  sinned  against  a  holy  God, 
whom  I  once  thought  I  loved  and  honored, 
and  have  brought  shame  on  His  name  among 
His  foes  ;  that  I  have  disgraced  the  dead,  and 
broke  the  heart  o'  the  livin',  and  ruined  my- 
self  ontirely.  This  last  is  sorrow  enough  ;  but 
when  I  remembers  God,  all  that  fades  away. 
I  can't  pray.    Och,  it  is  a  fearful  thing  to  be    . 


i 


206 


OEMS  or  THE  BOO. 


shut  out  from  tho  presence  o'  God  and  not  bo 

able  even  to  call  upon  Him." 
"  You  must  pray  or  you  are  lost;  no  man 

can  do  that  for  you."  ^; 

"  Ay,  yon  is  jist  what  I'm  always  tiUin'  hiui 

—  to    say    his    prayers,"    said    Paddy.    "  0' 

course  ho  won't  be  forgive  till  ho  docs  — 
'  what's  worth  tlio  takiu'  is  worth  tho  askin' !  " 
"  If  I  could  get  a  ray  o'  hope,  sir,"  said 
John,  without  paying  the  least  regard  to 
Paddy's  speech,  « I'd  lave  my  lovely  home  and 
go  forth  among  strangers  and  toil  at  any  work 
for  a  crust.  I'd  not  ask  a  shelter  by  day  or 
Might,  nor  a  smile  from  mortal,  nor  even  aso 
from  pain  o'  body !  " 

"  Ah,  you'd  buy  peace  with  God  by  pen- 
ance, like  your  poor  neighbors,  would  you? 
But  it  can  not  bo  done.  The  blood  of  Josus 
Christ,  and  that  alone,  cleansoth  from  all  sin. 
Do  you  believe  that  ?  " 

"  Ay,  I  have  believed  it  from  my  cradle  up ; 

but  Twy  sin,  sir  " ■  - 

"  Is  it  greater  than  all  sin,  so  great  that  it 


m^ 


A   nSIT  OF  MERCr. 


Sot 


and  not  be 

it;  no  man 

I  tillin'  Iiiu 

iddy.    "  0' 

lie  docs  — 

0  askiu' ! " 

,  sir,"  said 

regard   to 

home  and 

t  any  work 

by  day  or 

r  even  ase 

d  by  pcn- 
)uld  you? 

of  J0SU8 

m  all  sin . 
jradio  up ; 
)at  tliat  it 


outweighs  the  promise  and  the  power  of  God  ? 
Take  care,  my  friend,  how  you  limit  the  ability 
of  Illm  who  said,  'All  power  is  Mine  in 
heaven  and  earth,' "  said  the  visitor. 

"It  never  entered  my  head  that  I  was  a 
sinner,  sir,  till  late  years.  I  thought  myself 
an  example  to  all,  for  vartue  and  piety." 

"  Och,  that  ye  did,"  responded  Paddy  from 
his    dark    corner,  "and    the  blissed  one  in 
h-Tcn  war  always  warnin'  ye  agin  the  '  liven 
o'  the  Pharisees,'  and  tellin'  ye  that  ye  war  all 
buried  up  in  yer  crops  and  yor  cattle !    Well 
do  I  remember  in  those  last  days  how  she  said, 
'Beware,  boy,  o'   self-righteousness;   let  him 
that  standoth   take  hade  list  he  fall.'    Poor 
Paddy  remembers  her  holy  tacliin',  if  her  own 
son  don't,  and  I  only  a  poor  workhouse  lad 
and  a  Pnpislit  beside.    I'd  be  under  great  com- 
pliment to  ye,  young  jintleman  if  ye'd  say  yer 
prayers  hero,  seoin'  that  he'll  not  say  his.    I'll 
sit  still  and  listen,  though  I  daren't  for  the  life 
o'  me  go  onto  my  knees." 
'*  I  hope  you  will  not  forgot  your  own  soul, 


wm 


■iMni 


208 


GEMS  OF  TUB  BOO. 


my  poor  man,  in  your  caro  for  your  master," 
said  the  gcnlleraan. 

"  Ocli,  but  I'm  safe,  sir ;  I'm  a  Catholic  and 
quite  in  favor  with  father  Clakey  these  days, 
'count  o'  the  fine  way  I've  behaved  myself  in 
the  th roubles  at  Daisy  Farm  ;  though  he's  a  bit 
angered  witli  all  the  boys  for  listening  to  ye  at 
tiie  lough,  the  day.  He's  quite  sure  that  ye 
are  ather  n  clergy  or  the  makin's  o'  one,  — a 
Methodis  like,  that's  come  out  o'  England  to 
lade  us  asthray.  He's  comiu'  to  the  play- 
ground a  Tuesday  to  spy  ye." 

"  I  hope  ho  will ;  I'd  bo  glad  to  sec  him  ;  but 
at  present  we  have  to  do  witli  this  one  ques- 
tion, '  What  must  I  do  to  be  saved  ? '  "  said 
the  gentleman. 

And  far  into  the  night  ho  talked  with  John, 
and  prayed  for  him,  and  encouraged  him  to 
accept  the  offered  pardon,  while  poor  Paddy 
slept  in  his  chair. 


r  master," 


itholic  and 
hose  days, 

myself  in 
1  he's  a  bit 
iig  to  yc  at 
i"e  that  ye 
'  ono,  —  a 
i^iiglaiid  to 

the  play- 

'  him ;  but 

ono  ques- 

I  ? '"  said 

'itli  John, 
d  him  to 
or  Paddy 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

ELDER  PETER. 

WHEN  John  Shcohan  parted  with  the 
young  man,  in  the  darkness,  at  tlie  gate 
of  his  cottage;  he  said,  «  I'll  take  yor  advice, 
sir,  even  though  the  only  way  to  loose  the  hop- 
ples from  my  feet  be  to  go  forth  into  the  world 
penniless,  to  am  my  bread  as  a  farm  servant. 
Many  thanks  to  ye  for  yer  condescinsion, 
and  yer  marcy  to  a  poor  sinful,  sorrowful 
man  " 

When  he  entered  the  cottage  again,  ho  roused 
the  sleeping  Paddy,  who  started  to  his  feet  as 
if  in  great  alarm.  After  looking  about  him 
wildly  for  some  seconds,  he  remembered  the 
circumstances  under  which  he  had  fallen 
asleep,  and  exclaimed,  "Have  I  been  that 
oncivil  that  I  let  the  stranger  go  without  a  bow 
m  14 


i 


GEMS  OF  THE  BOO. 

from  mo  or  a  '  God  bliss  je,'  after  all  the  pains 
lie's  took  about  gettiu'  our  sins  forgiven  '  " 

Paddy  took  tl.e  sins  as  well  as  the  honors  of 
the  Sheehans  all  to  himself;  and  he  now  felt 
as  grateful  to  the  gentleman  as  if  ho  had  been 
the  especial  object  of  his  visit. 

"Sit  down  now  and  rouso  yonrsilf  like  a  man 
and  listen  to  me,"  said  John,  in  a  solemn  tone. 
"I've  promised  this  night  that  I'll  lade  a  new 
life  from  this  hour.  I've  resolved  to  break  the 
hateful  fetters." 

"  And  ye'U  break  yer  resolve  when  yon  one 
comes  back  from  tho  fair  and  abuses  yo,  — as 
ye  have  done  a  hoondered  times  afore,"  replied 
Paddy,  rubbing  his  sleepy  eyes. 

"No,  Paddy;  ye  and  me  is  free  from  this 
hour,  even  if  we  have  to  lave  the  darlin'  cottago 
and  all  in  it.  I  care  no  more  for  all  this  land, 
iior  the  crops,  than  for  the  dust  in  the  road,— 
these  treasures  that  has  well  nigh  cost  me  my 
«oul,"  said  his  master. 
"  And  whore'll  we  go  ? "  asked  Paddy. 
"  We'll  go  whore's  work  to  be  had,  and  hire 


•••— — TT-Tf 


UPP 


ELDER  PETES. 


211 


all  the  pains 
^ivcn ' " 
e  lioiiors  of 
lie  now  felt 
lio  had  beeu 

'  like  a  man 

olcmn  tone. 

lado  a  new 

0  break  the 

m  yon  one 
Qs  yo,  —  as 
•0,"  replied 

from  this 
lin'  cottage 

1  this  land, 
le  road, — 
>st  me  my 

Idy. 

,  and  hire 


out  as  farm  servants,  may   be;  but  I  must 
think  first,"  replied  John. 

"  I'll  not  lave  this  lovely  cottage  to  yon 
one!''  exclaimed  Paddy.  "I'll  set  fire  to  it 
and  burn  it  up,  and  then  I'll  drive  oflF  the 
cratiirs  and  sell  them  to  some  marciful  body 
as  will  love  them  tinder." 

"  But  the  cottage  is  not  ours,  it  belongs  to 
the  estate  o'  Harpley  Hall,  and  we'd  be  tran- 
sported for  burnin'  it  down.  We'll  do  right 
at  any  rate,  and  not  get  out  o'  one  sin  by  lap- 
in'  into  another,"  replied  John. 

"  Let's  ask  advice  o'  Elder  Peter,  for  though 
he'll  not  buy  eggs  of  sinners,  —  as  if  the  inno- 
cent luns  were  to  blame  for  the  ill  doin'  o'  their 
masthcr,  —  he's  quite  ready  to  give  them 
advice,"  said  Paddy. 

"  I  can  go  to  Mr.  Murray,  but  I'm  afeareder 
o'  Elder  Peter  nor  of  death  itself,"  replied 
John.  "  He's  a  man  o'  very  holy  life,  Paddy  ; 
and  never  havin'  fallen  himself,  ho  knows  not 
how  to  pity  the  sinner.  He  goes  half  a  mile 
out  o'  his  way  to  the  Hall,  o'  rent  day,  rather 
than  pass  Daisy  Farm ;  and  onco  when  I  met 


■I 


BMB 


212 


OEMS  OF  THE  BOO. 


liim  in  the  road,  lie  sprang  over  a  thorn  hedge 
rather  than  go  by  me." 

♦'  Och !  he'd  made  a  poor  hand  at  kapin' 
xjorapany  with  the  Son  o'  Mary  when  Ho  was 
on  arth !  Didn't  the  onld  misthress  read  us 
fine  lessons  about  Him  ating  with  publicans 
and  sinners  and  the  like  villyans  ?  And  ye 
mind  yon  Mary  that  He  let  wash  His  holy  feet, 
and  the  poor  body  He  spoke  tinder  to,  whin 
the  grand  folk  brought  her  to  Him  for  punish- 
ment in  the  timple.  If  Elder  Pctor  had  been 
there,  he  would  ha'  been  the  dith  o'  all  thira 
sinners." 

"  Well,  Paddy,  when  the  darkness  falls  the 
morrow  night,  I'll  slip  up  to  Mr.  Murray's,  and 
humble  myself  before  him  as  I  have  before  the 
Lord  ;  and  I'll  do  just  what  he  bids  mo,  if  it's 
to  leave  all  here  and  flee  like  a  beggar.  But 
ye  have  a  work  to  do  for  me,  Paddy,  as  well  as 
*lie  minister.  In  the  vision  o'  Mammy  Honey, 
—  by  which  I  should  ha'  taken  warnin',  —  ye 
it  was  that  drew  the  pizen  tooth  out  o'  the 
heart  o'  love." 

"  I'll  soon  do  thatf  with  yer  lave,  and  like  no 


at  kapiii' 

Ho   was 

read   ua 

publicans 

And  yo 

holy  feet, 

to,  wliin 

)!•  punish- 

liad  been 

'  all  tliira 


falls  the 
•ay's,  and 
eforo  the 
ne,  if  it's 
;ar.  But 
is  well  as 
y  Honey, 


ELDER  PETER. 


218 


better  business,"  replied  Paddy,  springing  to 
his  feet  and  rubbing  his  hands  together  im- 
patiently. 

"  Don't  ye  move  a  foot,  Paddy,  without  Mr. 
Murray's  biddin',  for  yc've  not  the  judgment  o' 
a  child,"  replied  John. 

"Och,  hasn't  I?  And  where  would  Daisy 
Farm  be  to-day,  weren't  it  for  my  judgment  in 
buyin'  and  sellin'  at  the  market  these  last 
years  ?  *'  replied  Paddy,  with  ofliiended  dignity. 

The  young  stranger  made  his  way  home  in 
the  darkness,  for  the  moon  had  set  long  before 
ho  left  the  cottage.  As  he  passed  the  few  poor 
hovels  on  his  way  to  Cloyuraally,  the  sleepers 
Within  were  startled  by  hearing  a  low,  sweet 
voice  singing  in  the  road,  —  ,  •■  t 

"The  dying  thief  rqoioed  toaee 
That  fountain  in  his  day :  " ! 

0,  may  I  there,  though  vile  as  he,         . 

Wash  all  my  sins  away." 

While  this  earnest  young  disciple  had  been 
striving  to  lead  the  wanderer  to  God,  Elder 
Peter,  tho  village  stone-cutter,  had  been  closeted 
with  the  minister,  looking  as  hard  as  the  ma- 


■MMMHIMMH 


^ 


S5SS 


/ 


214 


QEMS  OF  THE  BOO. 


terial  he  wrought  on.  "  Well,  sir,"  he  said,  as 
he  took  the  offered  seat  in  Mrs.  Murray's 
modest  little  parlor,  "  I've  been  hearin'  strange 
tilings  from  my  'printice  lads,  o'  the  doin's 
of  tliis  young  lad  that's  stoppin'  with  ye, 
—  such  a  doin's  for  the  Lord's  day  as  I  would 
not  belave  till  I'd  first  ask  yersilf.  What's  tiiis 
he's  doing  ?  " 

"  No  evil,  I'm  sure,"  said  Mr.  Murray,  re- 
turning the  stony  gaze  of  Elder  Pete*  very 
calmly. 

«« Well  I  heered  that  he'd  been  at  the  Killy- 
rooko  lough  consorting  witii  Papist  boys,  tell- 
ing them  about  pitchiu'  quoits  and  ball-playin', 
and  that  ho  bclaved  in  the  Virgin  Mary  and 
every  thing  else  they  belaved ;  and  that  there 
was  just  no  differ  at  all  betwixt  the  two  reli- 
gions. And  he  passed  silver  about,  like  a  fool, 
among  the  crowd, — it  will  all  go  for  whisky 
and  tobacco,  —  and  worse  nor  all,  who  do  you 
think  he  walked  off"  in  company  with  ?  Who 
but  John  Sheehau  !  " 

Elder  Peter's  righteous  indignation  had  well 
nigh  taken  away    his  breath   before  he    got 


•c: 


)  said,  as 
Murray's 
'  strange 

0  doiirs 
«rith   yo, 

1  would 
liat's  tills 

irray,  ro- 
stCu*  very 

!ie  Kiily- 
oys,  tcll- 
1-playiu', 
[ary  and 
lat  there 
two  reli- 
ke  a  fool, 
r  whisky 
}  do  you 
h?    Who 

bad  well 
)  he    got 


ELDER  PETER. 


215 


;sm.- 


through  this  description  of  the  modest  youth's 
effort"  at  the  play-ground.  Mr.  Murray  went 
into  a  labored  defense  of  his  friend,  pledging 
himself  that  no  evil  should  be  done  through 
him  to  Protestantism  in  the  town. 

But  "though  vanquished,"  Elder  Peter 
"could  argue  still."  He  expressed  great  sur- 
prise that  his  minister  should  have  trusted  a 
u.cre  boy  on  such  an  errand  as  that  on  which 
he  was  now  gone. 

"  He's  jist  quite  a  novice,  supposiu'  he's  even 
sincere,"  he  said.    «  What  is  he,  a  soft-hearted 
lad,  to  set  the  terrors  of  the  law  before  that 
offender?    He's  been  at  my  yard  tellin'   me 
'■   about  the  great  awakeniu'  they've  had  in  his 
college ;  and  I  think  he's  a  visionary.    I  tried 
to  sound  him,  but  there  was  no  depth,  either  to 
his  experience  nor  yet  to  his  Bible  knowledge, 
lie  was  quite  thick  in  his  views  o'  Daniel's 
vision.    I  could  not  draw  him  into  an  argu- 
ment about  Melchisedek ;  and  as  to  the  Apo- 
calypse-why, he  knew  nothing  of  the  correct 
interpretation  of  the  living  craturs  full  of  eyes 
before  and  behind !     He  had  no  more  opinion 


BtS:;^' 


216 


OEMS  OF  TEE  BOO. 


about  tho  scarlet  beast  with  tlie  seven  heada 
and  ton  horns  than  a  babe  unborn  !  " 

"  But  he's  a  new-born  soul,  elder ;  wo  must 
not  look  for  wisdom  in  a  child,"  replied  Mr. 
Murray. 

"  Ay,  very  good,  minister ;  and  ought  we  to 
put  a  strong  man's  work  into  tho  bauds' of  a 
babe  ?    Answer  me  that,  will  ye  ?  " 

"  I  have  done  nothing  for  Sheehan,"  replied 
Mr,  Murray,  « but  I  saw  no  reason  why  he 
might  not  point  him  to  Christ  when  ho  desired 
to  do  so." 

"  Yo've  done  nothing  ?  Didn't  ye  go  twico 
or  thrice  to  him,  and  he  turn  his  back  on  ye  ?  " 

"But  that  was  all  I  did,  save  to  pray  for 
him." 

"  Well,  I've  done  all  I  could  as  an  elder  o* 
the  church,"  replied  Elder  Peter. 

"  May  I  inquire  what  you  have  done,  bro- 
ther, except  to  pray  for  him?"  asked  tho 
minister ;  "  for  of  course,  you  have  done  that." 

The  elder  hesitated  a  moment,  but  he  was 
never  at  a  loss  for  a  passage  of  Scripture  to 
suit  his  purpose.    «  Well,  no,  minister  I  have 


1 


ELDER  PETER. 


m 


go  twice 
on  ye  ?  " 
pray  for    * 


not  prayed  for  John  Sheeliau.    Do  ye  not  mind 

a  passage  which  reads,  '  I  say  not  that  ye  shall 

pi-ay  for  tlicso.'  I  regard  hiin  as  one  of '  these.' 

1  met  him  once  in  the  road,  and  I  scathed  him 

with  my  conntenance.    Then  I  refused  to  take 

my  weekly  supply  o'  eggs  when  he  sent  them  ; 

and  I've  gone  round  the  back  road  every  time 

I've  been  up  to  the  Hall  with   my  rent,  rather 

than  countenance  him  by  passing   his   door. 

My  conscience  is  clear  in  his  case,  and  I  have 

no  faitli  in  his  repentance,  'less  a  mericle  be 

performed  to  prove  it.    But  the  night  wanes ; 

I  must  away." 

Just  as  Mr.  Murray,  candle  in  hand,  opened 
the  door  to  let  the  elder  out,  his  young  guest 
mounted  the  steps. 

"  Oh,  here  he  is,  back  from  an  errand  which 
might  make  a  very  angel  timid ! "  exclaimed 
Elder  Peter. 
The  young  man  looked  at  him  in  surprise. 
"  Listen  to  me,  lad,"  he  continued.    "  Did 
ye  ever  hear  &  one  that  ran  before  he  was 
sent?" 
«  Yes,  sir,"  was  the  answer. 


Ill 


218 


GEMS  OF  THE  BOO. 


"  Well,  and  so  have  I ;  aud  I've  seen  such  an 
one,  too.  Good-niglit,  minister;  good-night, 
lad."  And  tlie  elder  walked  forth  in  all  the 
dignity  of  conscious  orthodoxy. 


seen  such  an 

good-night, 

:h  in  all  the 


CHATTER  XX. 

DELIVEEANCR  FROM   EVIL. 

AFTER  Mr.  Murray  had  talked  some  time 
with  John  on  tho  following  evening,  he 
took  liim  to  the  cottage  of  Elder  Peter,  who 
actod  in  all  church  matters  as  if  Peter  of  early 
fame  had  placed  » the  keys  "  in  his  hand  when 
ho  left  the  church  militant  behind  him. 

Elder  Peter  first  denounced  the  wanderer 
with  the  severity  of  faithfulness,  and  then,  ap- 
plying all  the  thumb-screws  and  soul-screws  ho 
could  invent,  put  him  through  a  course  of 
questioning  to  test  his  sincerity  and  his  hu- 
mility. 

» If  the  clnlrch  (he  meant  himself,  for  all 
the  others  were  meek  and  tender-hearted) 
should  bid  ye  stand  up  afore  the  people  for  a 
public  robukin',  would  ye  do  it?"  he  asked, 
Bbrply. 

m 


Mrai 


no 


GEMS  OF  TIIF.  BOO. 


Ill 


"  I  would,  sir,"  replied  John,  "  before  them 
and  the  Lord  too." 

"  If  they  bid  yc  go  to  every  Catholic  house 
in  Killyrooke,  and  confess  that  yo  were  never  a 
Cliristian,  but  a  hypocrite  and  a  Pharisee, 
would  ye  do  it  ?  " 

"  I  will  do  that  whether  I'm  bid  or  not,  sir, 
because  I  owe  it  to  Him  whose  name  I  have 
disgraced,"  replied  John,  humbly. 

"  If  they  bid  ye  to  give  all  yer  goods  to  fee4 
the  poor,  and  lave  ycrself  penniless,  would  ye 
do  it?"  And  Elder  Petor  looked  shrewdly 
from  one  corner  of  his  eye,  as  if  sure  he  had 
now  struck  the  sore  point. 

"I  would,  sir,  and  bo  thankful  that  I  had 
any  thing  to  give,  thus  to  prove  my  piui- 
tence,"  said  John. 

"  Would  ye  give  yer  body  to  be  burned  ?  " 

« If  God  bid  mo  do  that,  I'd  ask  Him  for 
grace  and  strength  to  do  it,"  replied  John. 

»  Well,  and  if  the  church  bid  yc,  would  yo 
promise  never  to  seek  yer  wife  again  ?  For  it 
may  bo  the  desire  for  yer  old  peace,  and  not 


DELIVERANCE  FROM  EVIL. 


221 


oUc  house 

iro  never  a 

Pharisee, 

)r  not,  sir, 
me  I  have 

ids  to  ief^A 

,  would  ye 

shrewdly 

ire  he  had 

that  I  had 
my  pini- 

imed?" 
k  nim  for 
John. 
!,  would  yo 
II  ?    For  it 
;o,  and  not 


tlBSK 


repentance  for  sin  that  leads  ye  here.    Would 
yo  promise  this  ?  " 

"No,  sir,  not  for  all  the  churches  in  the 
world,  I  wouldn't.  God  is  over  all.  Because 
I've  broke  my  vow  to  Him  and  her,  it  is  no  rea- 
son I  should  keep  on  break! n'  it.  I  shall  seek 
her  at  once,  and  strive  to  atono  for  my  past 
evil  with  tenfold  o*  love  and  tinderness,  if  she 
comes  to  me  —  but  she  never  will.  Forgive- 
ness like  that  would  be  more  nor  mortal." 

Elder  Peter  frowned.  lie  was  there  as  an 
inquisitor,  anii  was  not  to  be  taught  by  such  a 
sinner.  "  Then  you  make  some  resarve  in  this 
matter  ?"  he  asked,  harshly. 

"  I  resarve  the  right  to  cease  doin*  evil,  and 
to  make  amends  for  the  past,"  said  John. 

"He's  right  there.  Elder,"  whispered  the 
minister,  who  was  the  only  mortal  to  whose 
opinion  the  rigid  man  would  yield.  ♦*  His 
confession  is  full  and  free,  we  must  admit." 

"  Well,  Slieehan,  I  hope  yo're  sincere,  and 
we'll  overlook  the  past  and  try  to  respect  ye 
again.  Ye  may  take  yor  seat  in  tlio  house  o' 
God,  next  Lord's  day,  and  PU  loave  the  mat 


222 


GEMS  OF  TUB  BOO. 


tei-  o'  the  public  rebukiu'  to  the  minister's  de- 
cision." 

The  minister's  decision  was  a  very  merciful 
one,  —  that  John  should  call  at  the  parsonage, 
and  walk  through  the  churchyard  and  into  the 
church  by  his  side.  Tiiis  would  show  the  con- 
gregation that  he  had  been  forgiven  and  re- 
ceived into  favor  by  the  minister  and  elders , 
and  would  secure  their  pardon  and  pity  for 
him. 

Elder  Peter's  sense  of  justice  was  as  strong 
as  his  hatred  of  sin  ;  and  ho  said  that,  evil  as 
was  the  heart  of  Nan  O'Gormau,  she  ought  not 
to  be  sent  forth  from  the  cottage  penniless,  — 
thus  perchance  to  bo  led  into  new  sin.  So  ho 
ordered  John,  with  Mr.  Murray's  approval,  to 
place  ton  pounds  in  his  hands  for  her,  which 
could  only  be  demanded  by  her  in  person. 

Mr.  Murray,  knowing  John's  timidity  and 
weakness  of  purpose,  wanted  to  encourage 
him.  He  therefore  requested  him  to  remain  a 
few  days  in  Cloynmally  to  look  after  the  men 
who  were  laying  out  the  garden  attached  to 
the  little  parsonage.     Matters  at  the  cottage, 


■^TTT? 


■^Hi;j..;..,vtj'^ii.WiH!''t!g-^ 


as  strong 
it,  evil  as 
ought  not 
milcss,  — 
1.  Bo  ho 
proval,  to 
lor,  which 
'son. 

idity  and 
[sncourago 
remain  a 
>  tho  raon 
tached  to 
0  cottage, 


DELIVERANCE  FROM  EVlL. 


223 


and  a  message  from  Elder  Peter  to  Nan ,  on 
her  return,  were  left  with  Paddy  Mannon,  who 
by  this  trust  was  greatly  elevated  in  his  own 
esteem. 

"  God  helps  those  who  help  themselves." 
Juat  as  soon  as  John  had  resolved,  in  tho  fear 
of  God,  to  break  the  chain  that  bound  him,  it 
was  broken  without  a  blow  from  his  hand. 
Tiie  day  after  he  loft  the  cottage,  Nan  returned 
in  high  spirits,  with  two  companions,  to  get  her 
clothes,  and  to  say  "  good-bye  to  all  Killy- 
rooke,  —  tho  dull  old  place  where  she'd  wore 
out  her  best  days  for  nothing."  She  an- 
nounced to  Paddy  that  a  new  linen-mill  had 
just  gone  into  operation,  about  twenty-Qve  miles 
away,  and  that  she  was  going  there  to  work 
with  her  friends.  She  was  too  young  and  too 
fair  to  spend  her  life  milking  cows  and  spin- 
ning flax ;  and  so  they  must  get  on  as  they 
could  without  her  at  Daisy  Farm.  The  mea- 
sngo  from  Elder  Peter  was  delivered,  with  an 
order  to  appear  before  him  within  ten  days,  or 
tho  money  would  be  made  over  to  tho  poor  of 
tho  parish. 


I 


i 


I 


<k 


4 


■« 


824 


GEMS  OF  THE  BOO. 


"Ten  pounds  is  a  power  o'  money!"  ex- 
claimed Nan.  "  But  I  would  nivcr  go  to  yon 
elder  for  it,  if  it  war  a  thousand !  I'll  take 
Maid  o'  Longford  instead,  and  sell  her  to 
farmer  Blancy,  whoso  wife's  long  wanted  her ; 
and  the  ten  pound  will  pay  for  her." 

"  When  ye  drive  Maid  o'  Longford  off,  ye'U 
drive  the  farm  with  her  and  Paddy  Mannon 
Btandin'  on  it!  My  darlin'  mistliress'  own 
cow,  indado,  that  Mammy  Honey  give  her ! 
Away  with  ye,  or  I'll  have  ye  'rested  for  a  high- 
wayman ! "  cried  Paddy,  in  a  towering  pas- 
sion. 

In  an  hour,  she  and  her  friends  were  gone, 
and  Paddy  was  on  his  way  to  boar  the  joyful 
news  to  John,  and  to  implore  him  to  "  send  off 
at  once  for  the  darlin'  misthress,  by  the  b'y 
that  knew  where  to  find  her  without  huntin'." 

Cut  both  Mr.  Murray  and  Elder  Peter  ad- 
vised John  to  put  his  cottage  in  its  old  order 
first ;  for  his  lack  of  heart  and  Nan's  lack  of  in- 
terest had  told  sadly  on  all  witliin  and  around 
it.  Tlie  poultry  houses  wore  almost  empty ; 
the  flowers  were  dead,  and  the  vines  Mammy 


wm 


DELIVERANCE  FROM  EVIL. 


225 


noy 


f« 


ex- 


go  to  yon 

I'll  take 

ell  her  to 

anted  her ; 
> 

i-d  off,  yo'll 
ly  Mannon 
hress'   own 

give  her ! 
for  a  higli- 
vcring  pas- 
were  gone, 
■  the  joyful 
)  "  send  off 

by  the  b'y 
it  huntin'." 
ir  Peter  ad- 
ts  old  order 
}  lack  of  in- 
and  around 
ost  empty ; 
les  Mammy 


Honey  had  loved  and  trained  were  tangled  and 
broken,  and  disfigured  with  the  dead  leaves 
and  stems  of  four  summers. 

"When  it  was  known  in  the  village  that  the 
usurper  was  gone,  and  that  John  and  Paddy 
were  making  preparations  for  Peggy's  return 
—  if  return  she  would,  —  it  gave  general  satis- 
faction. Some,  in  their  pleasure,  forgot  that 
he  had  caused  her  exile,  and  took  John  by  the 
hand  when  they  met  him,  and  said,  "  I  wish  ye 
joy,  neighbor !  Can  I  help  ye  clare  the  place 
up  for  her  comin'  ?  " 

Tiie  lady  of  Harpley  I  all,  herself  a  sad, 
neglected  wife,  knew  the  story  of  Peggy's 
wrongs  and  her  quiet  departure.  Wlien  she 
heard  that  she  was  expected  back,  she  sent 
a  man  to  the  cottage  with  a  gift  of  two  young 
deer  for  pets,  —  the  only  door  ever  owned  by  a 
peasant  in  that  region.  She  honored  the  gift 
by  sending  two  blue  ribbons  to  be  tied  around 
their  necks  on  the  day  of  Poggy's  return,  with 
a  message  that  she  should  call  at  the  cottage 
some  day  to  see  the  woman  who  had  always 

15 


mimth 


i 


li 


226  OEMS  OF  TEE  BOG. 

Bct  8uch  good  examples  to  the  people  on  the 

estate.  , 

Soon  after  this,  an  old  woman  i  i  the  neigh- 
borhood, who  had  received    much    kindness 
from  both  Mammy  Honey  and  Peggy  in  times 
of  sickness,  tapped  at  the  door  of  the  cottage. 
John  opened  it,  and  looked  in  amazement  at 
the  burden  of  life  she  carried  in  her  apron,  the 
corners  of  which  she  held  tightly  in  her  hands. 
"Neighbor  John,"   she  said,  "I've  heard 
that  the  black  cloud  is  broke  over  Daisy  Farm 
and  that  the  sun  is  overhead  again.    I've  come 
with  a  small  gift  to    her  as   is  comin'  back. 
Here's  my  best  hin  and  fourteen  fine  eggs  laid 
by  herself.    I'd  like   to  %et  her  in  the  hin- 
house,  that  Peggy  may  have,  at  least,  one  little 
brood  to  feed,^she  that  loves  livin'  croatur's 

BO  dear." 

Father  Clakey,  who  rejoiced  that  Nan  was 
gone  and  thus  the  offence  removed  from  his 
flock,  was  seen,  one  morning,  coming  down 
the  road  with  a  huge  pot  of  geranium,  all 
aflame  with  flowers. 


I 


DELIVERANCE  FROM  EVIL. 


227 


people  on  the 

i  i  the  uoigh- 
uch    khidnesa 
»cggy  in  times 
)f  the  cottage, 
amazement  at 
her  apron,  the 
\f  in  her  hands. 
"  I've  heard 
er  Daisy  Farm 
lin,    I've  come 
[S  comin'  back, 
n  fine  eggs  laid 
ler  in   tlio  hin- 
,  least,  one  little 
\  liviu'  croatur's 

d  that  Nan  was 
moved  from  his 
g,  coming  down 
)f  geranium,  all 


"  Here,  Mannon,"  he  called  over  the  hedge, 
"  set  this  in  yer  misthrcss'  little  glass  window, 
and  till  her  it  came  with  my  respects.  And 
mind  J  bid  yc  clarc  np  all  tliis  place,  and  trim 
the  vines  and  sort  up  the  flower-beds  before 
her  coming ;  for  she's  a  worthy,  paceable 
body,  and  an  example  to  these  hathen  savages 
that  are  breaking  my  heart  with  their  con- 
duct." 

Paddy  had  scarcely  done  bowing  to  and  hon- 
oring his  "  riverence,"  when  an  infirm  old 
woman,  who  had  suflFered  sorely  for  warm 
stockings  since  Peggy's  departure,  came  hob- 
bling into  the  little  garden  where  Paddy  was 
at  work.  *»*^     ' 

"  I  heerd,  Paddy,  that  ivery  body  is  Binding 
gifts  to  the  raisthress  but  mysilf.  But  I've  not 
a  ha'peth  to  give.  Wouldn't  ye  sufiFer  me  to 
wash  the  dairy  or  to  sweep  the  kitchen  to  show 
my  love  ?  "  she  said. 

"  Och,  dade  I  will,  granny,"  cried  the  mas- 
ter of  ceremonies.  "  I've  got  an  ilegant  job 
for  ye,  and  one  that  I  oflFered  nather  to  his 
*  riverence '  nor  yet  to  the  lady  o'  the  Hall. 


.M 


mmmm 


MM 


Mm 


mourn 


.1 


228 


GEMS  OF  THE  BOO. 


Take  yo  the  little  flax-whccl  that  she  loved  so, 
and  a  bit  o'  soap.  Go  down  to  the  lough,  and 
there  dip  the  wheel  tin  times  iu  the  water. 
Thin  scour  it  with  the  soap  till  yer  arm  is  nigh 
broke.  Thin  dip  it  tin  times  more  and  wipe  it 
dry.  Burn  the  flax  that's  on  it,  and  throw  the 
ashes  o't  in  tho  lough,  and  put  on  frush  flax 
tliat  I'll  give  ye.  And  whin  yer  sure  there's 
not  a  trace  o'  the  evil  hands  on  it,  bring  it 
back  to  its  own  place  again." 

Old  Monica  set  about  her  work  joyfully,  and 
when  it  was  accomplished,  she  charged  Paddy 
to  "tell  the  misthrcss,  or  she  would  never 
know  it  was  done." 

Cloynmally  caught  the  spirit,  and  bulbs  and 
shrubs  were  set  out  in  the  little  flower-garden, 
and  several  good  books  laid  on  the  table  beside 

the  old  Bible. 

But  it  remained  for  Paddy  to  make  the  most 
marvelous  change.  One  day  hie  master  came 
iuto  the  kitchen,  and  found  him  with  a  hoe, 
minus  the  handle,  down  on  his  knees,  scrap- 
ing the  clay  floor,  beaten  hard  by  the  wear  of 
a  century,  and  whose  hardness  and  evenness 


-~4 


DELIVERANCE  FROM  EVIL. 


229 


slio  loved  so, 
le  lough,  and 
in  the  water, 
r  arm  is  nigh 
■e  and  wipe  it 
ind  throw  the 
on  frjsh  flax 
r  snro  there's 
)n  it,  bring  it 

J  joyfully,  and 

ihargod  Paddy 

would  never 

and  bulbs  and 

flower-garden, 

the  tabic  beside 

make  the  most 
lie  master  came 
im  with  a  hoe, 
s  knees,  scrap- 
by  the  wear  of 
s  and  evenness 


were  John's  pride.  It  was  now  as  if  a  plough^ 
share  had  been  run  lightly  over  it  in  all  direc- 
tions, a  mass  of  broken  clay  and  dust. 

"  What  are  ye  doing,  man  ?  Look  at  this 
destruction ! "  cried  Jolin,  with  grief  in  Lis 
tone.' 

"  Kape  quite  asy,  masther,  and  I'll  soon 
make  all  riglit  agin,"  replied  Paddy.  "I'm 
but  takin'  off  the  top  o'  the  clay,  that  the 
darlin'  may  not  have  to  walk  on  the  same 
floor  yon  one  has  trod  these  years." 

It  was  no  easy  job  to  smooth  the  floor  again, 
but  Paddy  accomplished  it;  and  in  about  ten 
days,  with  the  approval  of  Mr.  Murray,  he  set 
off  on  tho  errand  he  )>id  been  looking  and  hop- 
ing for,  for  four  weary  years. 

John  had  urged  Paddy  to  go  to  the  city  in 
his  new  working-clothes,  but  he  disdained  the 
thougiit  of  making  so  poor  an  appearance 
when  he  was  going  on  such  important  busi- 
ness. 

"'Dade  the  ould  masthcr's  Sunday  shute 
won't  be  new  to  thim  where  I'm  goin',  for 
they've  seen  thim  afore,  and  were  well  plazed 


r*»s$!m^''^'«mtm  j 


\ 


! 


230 


OEMS  OF  TUE  BOO. 

too  -  for  they  all  laughed  very  pleasant  at  me, 
Lfrom  the  grand  lady  o'  the  house  to  the 

„aids  that  fed  me  m  the  kitchen  1 1 «  n o 
s„.all  farmer's  house,  nor  other  workin  man  s 
ather,  that  I'm  gom' to  now,"  ho  added  toss- 

i„g  his  head  proudly,  "but  to  the  raal  gen- 


There's,  a  brass    sign-board 


foot  long,  on  the  door,  with  their  name  out 
showin'ti.at  it's  ti.eimportantes^thmgm  the 

world  for  people  that  passes  to  know  who  Uves 
Zithin.  What's  the  good  o' a  lad  havm.  fine 
clothes  if  he's  not  to  wear  them  wlun  ho  s 
among  fme  people?    'Dade,  I'll wea     o  other 

John  offered  Paddy  money  to  g.         '»o  post- 
chaise,  but  he  seorned  it  as  au  in»muation  of 

weakness.  ,  , 

«rve  been  nigh  forty  year  boastm    that  I 

■    could  keep  paee  with  post-horses  on  my  owu 
two  feet,  and  it  would  be  a  beggarly  tlung  to 

give  it  up  now.    'Dade,  I'll  be  my  own  post. 

horses,"  he  said. 

John  had  given  him  a  thousand  messages 
before  he  set  off;  but  he  accompanied  him  a 
piece  on  the  road  repeating  them. 


,^l 


asant  at  mo, 
louso  to  the 
en.     It'8  no 
jrkiu'  man's 
)  added,  toss- 
,1,0  raal  gcu- 
ird  —  nigli  a 
r  name  ou't, 
tiling  in  the 
low  who  lives 
ad  havin'  fine 
jin  wljin  he's 
'ca    -0  other." 
g,         he  post<- 
iusiuuatiou  of 

boastin'  that  I 

les  on  my  own 

Tgarly  thing  to 

my  own  post- 

isand  messages 
ampanied  him  a 


DELIVERANCE  FROM  EVIL.  231 

«  Mind  ye  tell  her,  Paddy,  that  there's  niyer 
been  a  sunbame  in  my  heart  since  she  left  it ; 
that  I've  been  honrly  mournin'  after  her,  but 
was  too  wake  to  break  the  chain.    Tell  her 
how  I  forsook  God's  house  and  shunned  his 
people  I  and  tell  her  all  about  the  last  sorrow 
in  my  soul    for  sin  ;   and  tell  her  about  the 
young  jintlemau  from  the  college  that  led  mo 
to  sec  a  ray  —  mind,  it's  but  a  small,  feeble  ray^ 
-of  hope  ;  and   say  that  if  she  will  come 
back,  it'll  be  a  new  John  Sheehan  she'll  find 
at  Daisy  Farm,  not  the  proud  Pharisee  she  loft 
there,  but  a  man  humbled  in  the    d-st  and 
afcared  to  live  lest  ho  sin  more  agiu  a  long- 
suffering  God.    Can  ye  remember  all  I've  said 
to  ye,  Paddy?" 

« I'd  have  a  bad  memory  if  I  couldn't,"  re- 
plied Paddy,  "  for  ye've  tould  me  ivery  thing 
tin  times  over.  I'll  make  all  the  confissions 
and  promises,  and  I'll  tell  her  the  fine  daring 
up  we'v^  hud  at  the  farm,  and  all  about  the 
young  deer,  and  the  priest's  flowers  and  the 
books,  and  then  she'll  just  fly  to  get  back  to 
the  home  she  loved  so  dear." 


1 


iTinnimiimiiil  lliti 


>a 


232 


GEM3  OF  THE  BOG. 


«rai  not  so  suro  o'  that,  Paddy,"  replied 
John,  with   a   mournful   shake   of   the  head. 
"The  fine  folk  will  ha'  learned  her  value  by 
this  time,  and  will  strive  to  hinder  her  lavm'  by 
hapin'  abuses  on  me.     And  if  this  be  so,  and 
Bhe  refuse  to  come  back,  tell  her  that  war  what 
I  feared  and  what  I  dcsarvcd;  and  tell  her 
though  I  niver  see  her  more,  she  may  hope 
that  her  prayers  and  the  dear  dead  mother's  is 
answered,  and  that  poor  John  is  saved -«o  as 
by  fire.     Can  ye  remember  that  ?  " 

The  last  words  were  evidently  unintelligible 
to  Paddy,  but  he  did  not  admit  it.    "  Oh,  yes, 
I'll  remimber  it,  and  if  I  shouldn't,  I'll  make 
up  something  as  fine  as    it.     Now,    gooQ-day 
to  ye,  masther.    May  good  luck  go  with  me, 
and 'bide  with  ye;  and  mind  ye're  faithfu  to 
the  cows  and  the  rest  o'  the  work  while  1  m 
gone,  so  that  I'll  not  find  all  in  disorder  when 
I  retarns.     See,  there's  the  sun  just  peepin 
over  the  bog  as  he  did  the  mornin'  I  conveyed 
her,  with  her  blue  box  on  my  shoulder,  to  the 
wagoner  at  the  turn  o'  the  road.    Fare  yo 
well ! " 


^ 


?addjs"  replied 
!  of  the  head, 
id  her  value  by 
Icr  her  lavia'  by 

this  bo  so,  and 
ir  that  war  what 
d;  aud  tell  her 
,  she  may  hope 
dead  mother's  is 

is  saved  —  so  aa 

t?" 

tly  unintelligible 
it  it.    "  Oh,  yes, 
)uldn't,  I'll  make 
Now,    gooa-day 
uck  go  with  me, 
i  yo're  faithful  to 
e  work  while  I'm 
iu  disorder  when 
sun  just  peepin' 
ornin'  I  convoyed 
ly  shoulder,  to  the 
le  road.    Fare  yo 


DELIVEIIANCE  FROM  EVIL.  23S 

And  throwing  his  stick,  on  the  end  of  which 
was  a  bundle,  over  his  shoulder,  the  poor, 
faithful  fellow  trudged  off  on  his  long  day's 
journey,  whistling, 

"  Will  ye  go  to  KdTin  groTe!  •• 


iiilMMMMIM 


■attfMliiiuMH 


■■I 


f 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

PADDY    MANNON    AT    MISS  GREY'S. 

Iy^O  of  the  sunniest  cliambcrs  iu  the  liouae 
,  had  bcon  assigned  by  Miss  Grey  to  Peggy 
for  the  "orphan  asylum."    Under  one  of  the 
A^indows  was  a  heavy  iron  balcony,  from  which 
they  could  look  hito  the  small  gardens  of  two 
old   residences,  and  t!ien   olf  at  tho   distant 
harbor,  where  wl>ite  sails  were  always  Happing 
impatiently,  or  quiet  ships  lying  at  anchor,  as 
if   resting    after    long    and    ^eary    voyages. 
From  this  balcony,  after  tho  simple  lessons  of 
tho  morning  wore  over,  tne  humble  teacher 
could  always  see  something  which  suggested  a 
subject    of   instruction  to    her  little  charge. 
One  day  she  would  tell  them  all  she  knew 
about  the  waters,  and   explain  tho  power  of 
Him  who  holds  them  in  tho  hollow  of  His 

334 


^^|i^'"'"i!yi!>f'^'jv»'i}y'i  iii"U'i)' 


Y'8. 

tho  liouse 
ly  to  Peggy 

one  of  the 
from  which 
ions  of  two 
tho  distant 
lys  flapping 
t  anchor,  as 
•y  voyages. 
0  lessons  of 
ible  teacher 

suggested  a 
ttlo  charge, 
ill  she  knew 
ue  power  of 
illow  of  His 

334 


PADDY  MANNON  AT  MISS  GREY'S.       235 

hand,  and  who  fashions  and    preserves  tho 
myriads  of  fish  that  fill  them. 

So  the  trees,  and  flowers,  and  birds,  few 
though  they  were,  seen  from  a  city  window, 
were  turned  into  teachers  for  the  unfolding 
minds  of  tlie  tlioughtful  little  girls. 

Having  noticed  the  delight  they  took  in 
flowers.  Miss  Grey,  who  had  now  fully  re- 
gained her  health  and  spirits,  resolved  to  grat. 
ify  their  delicate  taste.  So  she  had  deep 
wooden  boxes,  filled  with  rich  earth,  fixed 
around  the  three  sides  of  the  balcony  by  iron 
rods,  and  stocked  with  potted  plants  in  bud  or 
bloom.  The  intervening  spots  were  reserved 
for  seeds,  that  the  children  might  watch  their 
growth  from  the  first  tender  sprout  to  tlio  gor- 
geous blossom. 

On  the  balcony  were  two  little  chairs,  with 
books,  toys,  and  materials  for  dressing  dolls, 
when  the  lessons  and  tlie  half-hour's  task  at 
needle  work  were  over.  It  was  the  summer 
school-room  and  tlio  playhouse;  a  place  of 
never  failing  amusement. 
One  morning,  as    Bessie    sat  hemming  a 


I 


'■H;"   '»!  -jir-.jjw.wmv.'!"" 


236 


OEMS  OF  THE  BOO. 


coarso  towel,  her  little  sister,  who  was  on  her 
kiicca  gazing  earnestly  into  the  black  earth  in 
"  the  garden,"  as  the  boxes  were  called, 
sprung  up,  exclaiming,  "  Oh,  see  !  God  has  put 
life  into  one  little  black  seed,  and  given  it  a 
tiny  green  head,  and  it's  just  pooping  up. 
And  look,  He's  turned  that  red  bud  into  a 
flower  in  tho  night ! " 

Miss  Grey,  who  was  in  tho  room  at  tho  time, 
consulting  Peggy  about  some  of  her  charities, 
stooped  to  look,  and  then  said,  "  Yes,  that  U 
one  of  the  seeds  you  called  '  black  peas,'  a 
sweet-pea.  It  will  grow  into  a  delicate  vine, 
and  by-and-by  have  fragrant  flowers." 
Peggy  sighed  heavily. 

"You're  not  sorry  the  poor  little  pea  has 
broken  its  shell  and  come  to  life,  I  hope,  Mis- 
thretis  Sheehan,  that  you  heave  such  a  sigh  as 
that?  "  asked  Miss  Grey. 

«  No,  ma'am,  I'm  glad  for  it,  and  for  the 
children,"  — Peggy  had  ceased  saying  "  chil- 
der,"  and  many  other  Irish  words,  — "but 
sweet  peas  and  pinks  always  bring  back  the 
past  to  my  heart.    I  had  scores  o'  twigs  stuck 


j»j.,l      Jn^IkAk-L  *-<*fc.  **•  -^ 


mm^ 


PADDY  MANNON  AT  MISS  ORET'S.       237 


lo  was  on  her 
•lack  earth  in 
were    called, 

God  has  put 
nd  given  it  a 

peeping  up. 
1  bud  into  a 

a  at  the  time, 
lier  charities, 
'  Yes,  that  is 
jlack  peas,'  a 
delicate  vine, 
jrs." 

little  pea  has 
3, 1  hope,  Mis- 
Buch  a  sigh  as 

b,  and  for  the 
saying  "  chil- 
\rord8,  —  "  but 
ring  back  the 
o'  twigs  stuck 


hp  in  my  little  garden,  and  routid  each  one  I'd 
plant  a  ring  o'  swcet-pcas ;  and  they'd  climb 
up  and  cling  to  the  twig  and  blossom  till 
they'd  fall  over  with  their  own  weight.  And 
the  pinks,  too,  how  Mammy  Honey  used  to 
love  them ! " 

"  Are  the  pinks  and  sweet-peas  all  there 
now,  and  nobody  to  love  them,  mammy  ? " 
asked  little  Marion. 

"  I  don't  know,  darlin',  but  I  think  they're 
all  dead,"  replied  Peggy. 

"Is  every  body  dead  there?"  she  asked 
again,  leaning  on  Peggy's  shoulder,  and  strok- 
ing her  cheek  tenderly,  as  she  always  did  when 
she  saw  a  shadow  pass  over  her  face. 

"  No,  darlin',  I  hope  not,"  answered  Peggy, 
lifting  the  child  to  her  knee  and  resting  her 
check  on  ^he  bright  little  head. 

"  Then  why  don't  we  go  there,  and  plant  the 
peas  and  pinks  again  ?  Can  we  go  some  time, 
mammy  ? " 

"  Perhaps,  darlin',  if  God  bids  us ;  but  we 
can't  tell.    We've  a  far  finer  home  here." 

"  No,  Marion,"   said   Miss  Orey,  "  I  can't 


: 


^ 


i 


■■I 


288 


GEMS  OF  THE  BOO. 


spare  your  mammy.  Wl.at  would  blind  Patty 
doifsLe  did  not  visit  licr  and  read  to  her? 
And  how  would  .Id  Molly  keep  her  knitting 
women  quiet  for  an  hour  to  hear  about  Christ, 
if  mammy  was  not  there  to  give  them  yarn 
and  tea,  and  to  get  their  love  ?  I  can't  spare 
mammy  when  I'm  sick,  and  tired  and  lonely. 
There's  nobody  in  the  world  loves  her  as  much 
aside;  and  nobody  shall  ever  have  her  who 

doesn't  love  her." 

The  children  had  heard  stories  of  Killy- 
rooke,  and  of  Mammy  Honey,  and  of  Paddy 
Mannon,  but  never  of  John.  They  looked  on 
the  place  as  a  paradise  of  cows  and  calves,  of 
hens  and  chickens. 

«  Go  now  to  your  bedroom,  and  sing  your 
dolls  to  sleep,  darlin's,  till  I  call  you,"  said 

Peggy. 

When  they  were  gone,  she  said  in  a  low 
tone  to  Miss  Grey,  "For  ten  days  I've  been 
sore  hindered  in  my  prayers  by  Satan,  o' 
whom  I'm  greatly  afearod.  Perhaps  Pvo 
Binned,  for  I've  long  ceased  to  pray  that  I 
might  go  back  to  die  in  my  own  cottage.    I've 


I  blind  Patty 
•cad  to  her? 
her  knitting 
about  Christ, 

0  them  yam 
I  can't  spare 

id  and  lonely. 

1  her  as  much 
liavo  her  who 

.ries  of  Killy- 
and  of  Paddy 
Ijcy  looked  on 
md  calves,  of 

and  singyovir 
all  you,"  said 


said  in  a  low 

days  I've  been 

by   Satan,  o' 

Perhaps    I've 

to  pray  that  1 

a  cottage.    I've 


PADD7  MANNON  AT  MISS  GREY'S.       239 

looked  on  all  of  arth  as  lost  to  me,  only  for  the 
good  I'd  do,  and  I've  prayed  only  for  John's 
soul,  and  not  that  ho  might  bo  brought  back 
repinting  and  seek  mo  out,  and  bo  his  old  self 
again.  0'  late,  when  I'd  be  on  my  knees,  a 
question  would  rise,  *  Can  ye  forgive  as  ye 
hope  to  be  forgiven?'  And  I'd  say,  'Yea, 
Lord.'  Then  I'd  ask  my  heart, '  Could  I  feed 
her  that  destroyed  my  peace  war  she  hungry, 
and  give  her  a  drink  war  she  thirsty  ? '  And 
again  I  said,  'Yea,  Lord.'  Tiion  came  the 
question, '  Could  ye  go  back  to  ycr  homo  and 
be  the  same  lovin',  true  wife,  and  forget  the 
past,  if  God  bid  ye  ? '  And  the  very  thought 
put  me  all  a  tremble.  If  I  should  but  see 
John's  face  I'd  fall  dead  at  his  feet.  And  I 
couldn't  say  'yes,'  to  that.  So  I've  an  un- 
broken will  yet  left  in  mo." 

"  I  would  never  let  you  do  that  after  the  ill 
usage  you  have  had,"  said  Miss  Grey. 

Ah,  dear  lady,  but  think  what  a  little  I've 
been  called  to  bear.  Scarce  a  harsh  word 
from  one  but  the  poor  blind  Papists  over  the 
road,  till  I  got  this  piercing  o'  my  heart  that 


nriw>'4fi  >»T  i^-tn  ^ 


240 


QEMS  OF  TBE  BOO. 


drove  mo  here.  And  mind  what  Josus  Him- 
Belf  suffoicd.  Ho  war  abused  and  insulted  by 
the  great,  and  deserted  even  by  Hia  followers 
that  he  had  chosen  out  o'  the  world,  that  He 
loved  with  an  everlasting  love.  And  yet  hear 
Him  on  the  cross  :  '  Father,  forgive  them,  for 
they  know  not  what  they  do.'  " 

"Well,  I  shall  not  be  anxious  till  I  hear 
that  you're  sent  for  — which  will  never  be. 
For  if  ever  that  man  repents,  he  wiU  bo 
ashamed  to  ask  you  back,"  said  Miss  Groy. 

"  I  had  a  bit  o'  a  dramo  last  night,"  said 
Peggy.    "  I  thought  I  was  standin'  in  a  gar- 
den, when  I  heerd  a  soft  voice  call  my  name  as 
Mary  at  the  sepulchre ;  and  like  her  I  turned 
mo  about  and  said, '  Master.'    There  stood  the 
Master  Himself,  and  He   had   my  poor  wan- 
derer fast  by  the  hand,  holding   him   up.    I 
took  the  other  hand  in  mine,  and  forgot  we'd 
ever  been  estranged,  and  as  tho  Blessed  Ono 
left  us  I  saw  His  footprints  like  shinin'  silver, 
and  in  striving  to  follow  in  His  steps  and  to 
lead  the   wanderer  on,  I  woke.    For  a  little 
time  I  was  troubled  thinking  p'  the  past,  but 


M^ 


mmmmmmm. 


lat  Jesus  Him- 
and  insulted  by 
f  Ills  followers 
world,  that  He 
And  yet  bear 
brgive  them,  for 

ious  till  I  hear 

will  never  bo. 
nts,  he  will  bo 
I  Miss  Grey, 
last  night,"  said 
audin'  in  a  gar- 
call  my  name  as 
like  her  I  turned 

There  stood  the 
i  my  poor  wan- 
iing  him  up.  I 
,  and  forgot  we'd 

the  Blessed  Ono 
,ko  shiniu'  silver, 

His  steps  and  to 
oke.  For  a  little 
ig  o'  the  past,  but 


PADDY  MAyirON  AT  MISS  ORET'S.       241 

before  the  light  came  in  at  the  window  the 
groat- peace  was  back  again  in  my  soul,  and 
I've  not  thought  o'  the  drame  since  till  the 
little  lambie  asked,  *  Can't  we  go  there  and 
plant  the  flowers  again  ?  '" 

"  Misthress  Sheehan,"  said  Miss  Grey,  "  do 
you  not  think  you  are  doing  far  more  for  the 
suffering  here  than  you  could  do  —  even  if  all 
was  well  in  your  own  home,  —  cooped  up  la 
that  little  hamlet  among  those  debased  Papists 
who  will  not  hear  you  read  or  listen  to  your 
advice  ? " 

"  Well,  perhaps,  ma'am,  but  I  can't  tell.  I 
made  a  happy  home  there,  and  strove  to  do  a 
little  outside  for  friend  and  foe.  Killyrooke  is 
a  small  place,  but  it's  full  o'  souls ;  and  ye  can 
never  know  bow  Mammy  Honey  loved  them 
and  longed  for  their  salvation." 

Tlic  conversation  might  have  gone  on  longer, 
but  for  n  bustle  and  a  sound  of  laughter  in  the 
hall  outside  the  cbambor  door.  After  tapping, 
two  maids,  redolent  with  smiles  and  blushes, 
appeared  together.  Each  was  ambitious  to 
tell  the  news  first. 

16 


/- 


i 


242 


QEM8  OF  TUB  BOG. 


"  Well,  what's    tliis    trifling   about   now  ? " 
asked  Miss  Grey,  without  a  smile. 

"  Please,  ma'am,"  they  both  said  in  a  breath. 
"  Susan,"  said  the  lady,  "  be  quiet,  and  let 
Mary  tell  what's  going  on." 

"Please,  ma'am,  yon  queer  dressed  farm- 
man,— the  little  man  in  the  big  clotlics,  —  is 
come  again  to  see  Misthress  Shechan.  When 
I  opened  the  door  at  his  ringin',  he  was  sitting 
on  the  steps  untying  his  wooden-soled  brogues, 
and  he  took  them  in  his  hand  and  walked  into 
the  passage  in  his  stockin's.  He  told  us  to 
say  to  Misthress  Sheehan  that  'one  Paddy 
Manuon  was  wantin'  to  spake  with  her.' " 

Miss  Grey  glanced  at  Peggy,  whoso  face  was 
as  white  as  marble,  and  asked,  "  Shall  the 
man  come  up  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  plaze,  dear  lady,  tarry  yo  too,  for 
I'm  just  faintin'  at  thought  o'  what  has 
brought  him.     May  be  his  masther's  dead." 

"  Oh,  no  fear  of  that,"  said  Miss  Grey,  almost 
sarcastically.  "This  ridiculous  fellow  has 
taken  the  journey,  as  he  did  before,  merely  to 
see  you.     Here  ho  is."  • 


pwi'^ii""^ 


00. 

g   about   now  ?  " 
kilo. 

said  in  a  breath. 
JO  quiet,  and  let 

er  dressed  farm- 
big  clotlics,  —  is 
Slieoliau.  When 
u',  ho  was  sitting 
en-soled  brogues, 
1  and  wallted  into 
.  He  told  us  to 
tliat  '  one  Paddy 
I  with  her.' " 
y,  whoso  face  was 
,sked,  "  Sliall  the 

y,  tarry  yo  too,  for 
;ht  o'  what  has 
Esther's  dead." 
I  Miss  Grey,  almost 
iulous  fellow  has 
1  before,  merely  to 


PADDT  MANNON  AT  SflSS  ORET'S.       243 

Paddy,  with  Iiis  shoes  in  one  hand  and  his 
stair  and  bundle  in  the  other,  came  a  step  or 
two  into  tlie  room,  very  shyly  ;  but  catching  a 
glimpse  of  his  mistress  in  her  black  dress  and 
Ii.r  muslin  cap,  he  was  so  overawed  by  her 
gi  aiuleur,  tliat  ho  stepped  back  again  into  tho 
passiigc.  Miss  Grey  said,  "  Corao  in,"  but  it 
was  not  till  she  rose  and  opened  tho  door  that 
lie  ventured  to  do  so.  Then  ho  exclaimed,  in 
woiulcr,"Pd  niver  a  knowed  ye,  dear.  How 
white  yer  hair  is  gettin'  with  the  throublc,  and 
how  grand  yo  look  in  tho  fine  clothes  !  Sure, 
yc'rc  dressed  like  Misthress  Murray  herself." 

"Paddy,"  asked  Peggy,  i,i  a  tremulous 
tone,  "  is  all  well  with  yo  ?  " 

"  'Dade  it  is,  misthress,  and  better  too ! " 
exclaimed  Paddy. 

"  Lay  down  yer  stick  and  give  me  yer  hand, 
my  poor  friend,"  slio  said. 

This  done,  Paddy's  sudden  reserve  gave 
way,  and  he  said,  looking  first  at  one  of  his 
listeners  and  then  at  the  other,  « Pve  fino 
news  to  till  ye.  The  O'Gormans  is  all  dead 
and    in    the    workhouse,    and    their    cottage 


844  OEMS  OF  THE  BOG. 

burned.     We've    been    convartcd    at   Daisy 
Farm,  and  we've  confissed  our  sins,  and  ro- 
pinted  o'  the  same,  and  got  back  into  the 
church  again,  and  walked  into  tlie  pew  by  the 
side  o'  Mr.  Murray,  after  gcttin'  lave  of  Elder 
Peter,  and  yon  one's  gone  oflf  to  work  in  the 
mills,  and  the  clay  floor's  all  scraped  by  thim 
two  liands"  — which  he  held  up, —  «  and  the 
flax  wheel  scoui-ed  with  soap  and  sand  in  tlio 
loug'.i,  and  tlio  flax  that  was  on  it  burnt  up, 
and  tlio  ashes  thrown  into  the  dipths  of  the 
Bea,  and  the  vines  all  trimmed  up,  and  flowers 
growin',  and  a  pot  o'  scarlets,  sint  by  his  river- 
ence,  in  the  little  glass  windy,  and  two  young 
deers,  a  o-ift  from  the  hall,  and  a  sittin'  hin 
with  wurteen  fine  eggs  under  her,  and  himself, 
the   rocsther,   all   dros'>o.l  in   his  hist  clothes 
sLi..u'  waitin'  to  see  ye  back,  and  I'm  sint  for 

ye." 

l>-dd/  scarcely  took  breath  during  this 
speech,  which  he  delivered  in  such  an  excited 
manner  as  to  lead  Miss  Grey  to  think  him 
crazy.  But  by  degrees,  and  after  many  ques- 
tions, Peggy  got  the  whole  stDry  out  of  him. 


..« ^iiirii<..id»wiii>iii";^- 


to. 


PADDY  MANNON  AT  MISS  GREY'S.       245 


irtcd  at  Daisy 
iir  sins,  and  ro- 
t   back   into  tho 

0  tho  pew  by  the 
ill'  lave  of  Elder 
J  to  work  in  tho 

scraped  by  thitn 

1  up,  —  "and  tho 
and  sand  in  tho 

1  on  it  burnt  up, 
he  dipths  of  tho 
id  up,  and  flowers 
,  siut  by  l»is  river- 
y,  and  two  young 
and  a  sittin'  hin 
■  her,  and  himself, 
I  his  bist  clothes 
,  and  I'm  sint  for 

oath  during  this 
in  auch  an  excited 
Jrey  to  think  him 
I  after  many  ques- 
itDry  out  of  him. 


"  And  what  message  did  Mr.  Murray  send 
by  yc,  Paddy  ?  "  slie  asked. 

"  He  bid  ye  come  back,"  replied  Paddy ; 
"  but  here's  a  letter  from  Mr.  Murray  himself 
to  Miss  Grey.  But  I  it  was  that  complated 
tlic  work,  though  I  never  told  it  afore.  I  gavo 
Kitty  Connors  half  i.iy  last  quarter's  wages  to 
fill  yon  one's  head  with  tho  fine  time  they'd 
have  at  the  new  mill  where  herself  was  goin' 
to  work,  and  to  take  her  over  thero  to  a  dance 
they  liad  afore  the  openin'.  They  war  gone  a 
week,  and  it  was  one  long  holiday  to  them, 
and  life  at  tho  cottage  looked  dull  beside  it. 
So  I  it  was  that  did,  in  the  latter  end,  what 
tho  dead  misthress  said  Pd  do  —  do  ye 
mind  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Paddy,  I  mind,  but  I'm  bewildered 
oulirely  now,  and  can  not  think.  But  why, 
when  yer  masthcr  has  caused  all  this  sorrow  — 
look  at  my  white  hair,  and  me  only  at  middle 
life  —  if  he  has  repinted,  why  didn't  he  come 
himself  instead  of  sending  ye  ?  " 

"  Because  for  two  Reasons.  Tho  first  was, 
he  was  afeared  o'  Miss  Grey,  the  fine  lady; 


I 


■f^-^ 


flf" 


246 


GEMS  OF  THE  BOO. 


and  the  sicoiid  was  that  I  wouldii;t  sjiffur  hiin, 
but  was  dctarmiiied  to  come  mysilf,  as  I  prom- 
ised yo.  Didn't  yersilf  till  me  whiniver  I  see 
my  mastlier  broke  down  and  Immbled,  to  coine 
afHr  ye  raysilf  ?  " 

"  Zos,  Paddy,  but  I  little  draraed  it  would 
take  four  long  years  to  bring  l»im  back  to  his 
sinses,"  replied  Peggy. 

*'  She  can  never  go  back,"  cried  Miss  Grey. 
"  Your  master  does  not  deserve  such  a  wife. 
And  how  could  she  ever  live  in  that  crazy  old 
shieling,  after  passing  four  years  amid  such 
comforts  as  these  ?  " 

"  0,  dear  heart,  the  comforts  would  niver 
cost  mo  a  thouglit,"  replied  Peggy.  "I'm 
bound  to  yo  by  a  thousand  cords  o'  love ;  but 
if  I  could  know  the  groat  Masther's  will  Pd  do 
it." 

"But,  Misthress  Sheehan,"  said  the  lady, 
"  think  of  tlie  children  ;  but  for  you  I  should 
never  have  taken  this  responsibility.  I  can 
leave  them  nothing,  as  this  property  all  goes  to 
nephews  at  my  death.  But  if  you  romaiu,  you 
can  fit  them  to  earn  their  bread  in  somo  re- 


.MlMt(»j*'*.««^«- ' 


■MMtv 


f- 


mm 


BOG. 

•uldii;t  sjiffur  hiin, 

mysilf,  as  I  prom- 

rae  whiniver  I  see 

humbled,  to  coine 

draraed  it  would 
a  bim  back  to  his 

'  cried  Miss  Grey. 

iserve  such  a  wife. 

a  in  that  crazy  old 

years   amid  such 

iforts  would  uivei 
led  Peggy.  "  I'm 
.  cords  o'  love  ;  but 
[asther's  will  I'd  do 

n,"  said  the  lady, 
it  for  you  I  should 
5ponsibility.  I  can 
property  all  goes  to 
if  you  romuiu,  you 
f  bread  in  some  re- 


PADDY  MANNON  AT  MISS  GREY'S.       247 

Bpoctal)le  way.  Otherwise,  they  will  be  cast  on 
(ho  world  when  I  am  gone." 

"  Dear  lady,"  cried  Peggy,  "  when  I  tuk  the 
Iambic.^  to  my  lieart  it  was  for  my  own.  I 
will  niver  ".ast  them  off.  Wiieu  I  go,  they  will 
go  too," 

"  You  may  go  now,  my  good  man,"  said 
Miss  Grey,  "  and  get  your  dinner  at  an  inn. 
Tiien,  if  you  are  not  too  tired,  you  can  walk 
about  and  look  in  the  shop  windows  till  bed- 
time. Hero  are  two  crowns  to  pay  for  your 
diiuicr  and  your  lodging.  You  can  come  back 
to  see  Misthress  Slicehan  to-morrow." 

Paddy  drew  his  hand  behind  him  as  far  as 
possible  from  the  proffered  silver. 

"  I'm  not  a  poor  man,  lady  !  "  ho  cried,  rais- 
ing his  head  till  it  came  almost  above  the  col- 
lar of  his  coat.  "  I'm  a  man  as  can  command 
my  own  price,  and  gets  thirty-five  shillings  a 
quarter!  I'm  not  a  child,  to  accept  pence, 
but  a  man,  with  all  the  money  I  nadcs,  and 
pliiity  to  spare  to  the  poor  ones.  And  more 
nor  that,  ma'am,"  said  Paddy,  with  a  low  bow, 
"  if  it's  iver  yer  fortiui'  to  walk  from  Killy- 


i 


i 


i 


248 


QEMS  OF  THE  BOO. 


rooke  to  this  city,  yo'll  be  glad  enough  o'  a 
bed,  'stead  o'  stariu'  in  at  shop  windows  !  If  I 
ouco  gets  into  a  bud  at  the  inn  I'll  bide  iu  it  a 
week.  I  came  after  my  misthress,  aud  not 
Bcekiu'  shows." 

When  Peggy  had  Paddy  alone  the  next  day, 
she  said  to  him,  "  I  can  not  go  back  with  ye, 
poor,  faithful  boy.  Ye  see  how  I'm  fixed  here 
with  the  little  ones ;  I  could  not  leave  them, 
nor  yet  could  I  take  them  with  me  without  yer 
masthcr's  lave.  Tell  him,  Paddy,  I've  long 
ago  forgiven  him,  and  that  I've  been  just  suro 
that  God  would,  sooner  or  later,  bring  him  to 
Himself,  and  lot  mo  take  him  to  Mammy 
Honey  at  last.  But  tell  him  that  after  all  that 
has  passed,  himself,  and  not  ye,  ought  to  take 
me  back  to  my  homo,  that  my  neighbors  may 
see  that  ho  desires  mo  there,  and  loves  me 
still.  And  toll  him,  Paddy,  that  o'  all  tho  fine 
things  I'vo  seen  here  there's  nothing  so  beauti- 
ful to  rao  as  my  own  little  cottage,  and  that  I 
can  return  and  bo  the  same  faitliful  wife  as  I 
Ivor  was.  And  toll  him  that  tho  peaco  o'  God 
still  'bides  with  my  sperit,  and  that  through  all 


t»a.««ii»imi'i«l'«»«» 


wmm. 


ad  enough  o'  a 

windows !     If  I 

n  I'll  bide  iu  it  a 

sthress,  aud  not 

lie  the  next  day, 
go  back  with  ye, 
w  I'm  fixed  here 
not  leave  them, 
mo  without  yer 
'addy,  I've  long 
e  been  just  suro 
Qr,  bring  him  to 
liim  to  Mammy 
hat  after  all  that 
re,  ought  to  take 
r  neighbors  may 
e,  and  loves  mo 
lat  0*  all  the  fino 
othing  so  boauti- 
ttage,  and  tliat  I 
faithful  wife  as  I 
the  peace  o'  God 
.  that  through  all 


PADDY  MANNON  AT  itI88  GREY'S. 

my  sorrow  the  lovin'  Master  has  been  iver  at 
my  side, -thai  I  almost  see  Him  by  mo  now. 
And  0,  rjady,  don't  ye  be  so  plased  about  yer 
poor  masther's  bcin'  convartod  as  to  forget 
that  ye  too  have  a  soul,  and  that  it's  as  worth 
savin'  as  his.  Remember  all  this,  Paddy,  if  I 
shouldn't  see  yc  agin  alone."  ^ 

Notwitljstanding  Paddy's  noble  independ- 
ence, ho  consonted  to  stay  three  or  four  days 
at  an  inn  at  Miss  Grey's  expense.  He  also  do- 
Bccnded  so  far  from  his  dignity  as  to  yield  tho 
controversy  he  had  kept  up  with  the  post- 
chaise  and  horses,  and  to  compromise  matters 
by  riding  home  with  Barney,  the  wagoner. 
But  he  was  sorely  humbled  by  the  result  of  his 
mission.  Ho  had  gone  forth  proud  and  boast- 
ful, taking  to  himself  all  the  honor  of  tho  good 
work  at  the  cottage,  and  saying,  "  Tliere's  just 
but  only  one  man  on  the  round  arth  tliat  can 
bring  the  jewel  back,  and  that' man's  mysilf — 
Paddy  Mannou.  And  look  out  for  the  day  ye 
SCO  U8  rotarnin'  together  triumphant  to  Killy- 
rooke!"     Poor,  crestfi.   ju  Paddy!     All  he 


p^ 


Kl 


250 


OEMS  OF  THE  BOG. 


had  gained  personally  by  his  long  tramp  was 
Bore  disappointment,  deep    mortification  and 

aching  limbs.  ^^ 

Wlien  be  readied  "  the  turn  of  the  road 
where  the  wagoner  set  him  down,  he  seated 
himself  on  a  pile  of  stones,  saying,  resolutely, 
"Now,  Paddy  Mannon,  sit  here  till  ye  die, 
afore  ye  enter  Killyrooke  alone.    My  heart's 
broke  hi  my  bussum  ;  yis,  tin  times  broker  nor 
it  war  tlie  day  I  laid  my  jewel  Meg  in  the 
grave,  intiroly.     Here  I'll    'bide  and  die  o' 
ather  hni.gor  or    starvation.     And  then  the 
ministhor,  and  Elder  Peter,  and  the  miserable 
masthor  will  cry  tears   above  me,  and   say, 
«  There  war  a  fine,  faithful  lad ! '    Farewell  to 
ye,  ilegant  green  arth  and  blue  skies ;    fare- 
well, craturs  I've  fed  and  housed  so  tinder; 
farewell,  Masther  John,  that's  been  the  dith  o' 
poor  Paddy.    Dig  me  a  grave  beside  Meg,  and 
let  mo  hide  mysilf  in   it  afore   any  body  in 
Killyrooke  will  taunt  me  with  the  disgrace  o' 
comin'  back    alone,    and    nobody    with   me! 
Those  is  the  last  words  o'  Paddy  Mannon,  late 


3ng  tramp  was 
ftification  and 

I  of  the  road  " 
)wn,  lie  seated 
iug,  resolutely, 
ire  till  ye  die, 
le.    My  heart's 
mcs  broker  nor 
b1  Meg  in  the 
de  and  die  o' 
And  then  the 
id  the  miserable 
,  me,  and   say, 
1»    Farewell  to 
ue  skies;    fare- 
used  so  tinder; 
been  the  dith  o' 
beside  Meg,  and 
»re   any  body  in 
I  the  disgrace  o' 
body    with   me! 
Idy  Maunon,  late 


llllpnHilMBIIRPW 


PADDY  MANNON  AT  MISS  GRET'S.       251 


of  Killyrooko,   parish   o'   Cloynmally,  county 
Connaught,  Ireland." 

Tlio  first  twinge  of  hunger,  —  the  seat  of 
that  malady  being  tlie  most  sensitive  part  of 
Paddy's  system,  — drove  all  sentimentalism 
out  of  him;  and  about  an  hour  after  he  had 
uttered  his  «  last  words,"  ho'  took  up  his  stick 
and  bundle  and  mado  his  way  to  Cloynmally, 
and  delivered  Miss  Grey's  letter  to  Mr.  Mur- 
ray. That  gentleman  saw  no  cause  for  such 
deep  gloom  as  Paddy's,  and  told  him  "that  his 
mistress  would,  doubtless,  be  at  homo  in  a 
fortnight,  with  tbe  two  little  girls. 

Paddy  shook  his  head  mournfully,  and  said, 
"  Yo've  not  seen  yon  Miss  Grey,  that  has  the 
kapin'  of  her.  To  hoar  her  talk,  ye'd  think 
the  worst  evil  that  could  befall  a  woman  was 
to  have  a  husband  at  all.  She  ivident  hates 
the  whole  nation  of  men,  and  was  but  barely 
civil,  aven  to  mysilf.  I'll  nivcr  face  Masther 
John  with  the  bad  news." 

Mr.  Murray  offered  to  go  homo  with  him,  as 
Miss  Grey's  letter  was  for  his  master's  benefit, 
and  must  bo  read  to  him.    It  was  like  the  sur- 


252  0EM8  OF  THE  BOO. 

geon's  lance,  severe,  but  potont ;  and  both  de- 
cided that,  painful  as  it  would  be,  John  him- 
self must  go  for  Peggy. 


t  i 


.<;■- 


':.    :>:f^ 


amamr. 


miimmtuimm* 


■inpm 


'■:?.. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 


A   HAPPY  "  HOMB-BRINOma." 

IT  was  true,  as  Paddy  had  stated,  that  Miss 
Grey  was  no  admirer  of  "  the  nation  of 
men."  She  had  seen  poor  specimens  in  her 
own  family,  two  sisters  having  married  men 
who  spent  tlieir  money  and  then  broke  their 
hearts.  So  she  had  steeled  her  own  heart 
against  the  sex,  even  in  her  charities. 

But  the  deep  humility  of  poor  John,  and  the 
solemn  awe  that  marked  his  face  and  his 
voice,  when  he  came  for  Peggy,  touched  lier, 
so  that  the  rebuke  and  the  advice  she  had  in 
store  for  him  were  all  forgotten  when  they 
met.  She  soon  ceased  to  think  of  him  as  the 
vile  wretch  she  had  almost  hated,  and  found 
herself  listening  with  tearful  eye  to  the  simple 
tale  of  his  wanderings  and  of  his  conversion 
to  God.    She  now  acknowledged  him  as  a 

903 


I 
1 


f 


sti 


GEMS  OF  THE  BOO. 


brother,  and  spoke  of  him  as  "  poor  Sheehau," 
and  not  as  "  that  miserable  man."  Sbe  be- 
came so  softened  towards  liim  that,  groat  as 
was  the  sacriEce,  she  consented  cheerfully  to 
Peggy's  departure.  She  promised  to  provide 
for  the  little  girls  under  her  charge  until  they 
should  be  able  to  take  care  of  themselves. 
Not  to  make  the  change  too  great  from  tlie 
pleasant  chambers  where  they  now  lived,  she 
insisted  on  sending  to  Killyrooke  a  load  of 
furniture,  bedding,  books  and  toys  by  Barney's 

wagon.   -  >  V 

"Sheehan,"   she   said,  before  parting  with 
the  family,  "  as  you  are  not  a  poor  man,  I'm 
going   to    make    a  request    that    may  seem 
strange  to  you.    I  don't  think  that  cottage  of 
yours  is  good  enough  for  such  a  wife  as  you 
have.    You  must  add  a  room  to  it,  and  lay  a 
board  Hoor  there,  and  put  a  glass  window  in 
every  room.    I  shall  send  the  '  asylum '  carpet 
for    the  new  room,  and  the  table,  and  the 
chairs;  and  do  you  make  Misthress  Sheehan 
as  comfortable  as  possible,  and  see  that  the 
little  girls  help  her  in  every  way  they  can." 


A  HAPPY  "  BOME-BRlNOINa." 


255 


jor  Sheehau," 
an."  She  bo- 
that,  groat  as 
[  cheerfully  to 
jed  to  provide 
irge  until  they 
of  themselves, 
jreat  from  the 
now  lived,  she 
oke  a  load  of 
jys  by  Barney's 

e  parting  with 
poor  man,  I'm 

hat  may  seem 
that  cottage  of 

li  a  wife  as  you 
to  it,  and  lay  a 

glass  window  iu 
asylum '  carpet 
table,  and  the 

sthress  Sheehau 

ind  see  that  the 

ly  they  can." 


Juhu  expressed  his  gratitude,  and  promised 
to  make  the  improvements  she  suggested. 
But  Peggy's  pale  face  flushed  as  die  said, — 

"But,  dear  Miss  Grey,  I'm  afeared  about 
the  carpet.  Perhaps  the  poor  things  that  I'm 
hopln'  to  benefit  there  might  think  me  proud, 
and  so  grow  invious ;  and  I  dar'u't  do  any 
tiling  to  drive  them  from  me.  I've  great  hope 
I'll  do  them  good,  and  so  must  be  just  one  o' 
themselves  still." 

"Don't  tell  me  that!"  cried  Miss  Grey. 
"  I  know  more  of  human  nature  than  you  do, 
Wistross  Sheeliaii,  and  I  know  that  the  igno- 
rant take  instruction  more  kindly  from  supe- 
riors than  from  equals  or  inferiors.  And,  al- 
tliough  you  were  not  a  whit  above  themselves, 
they'd  listen  to  you  with  more  respect  in  your 
black  dress  and  your  muslin  cap  than  in  the 
old  linsey-woolse)  and  cotton.  When  the  car- 
pet is  laid,  rid  the  new  windows  put  iu, 
there's  no  doubt  you  will  have  admirers 
enough.  And  thoso  who  come  to  gaze  will 
stay  to  listen." 

"  But,  ma'am,  there's  not  a  carpet  in  the 


mUKMkm 


^ 


256  OEMS  OF  TOE  BOO, 

town  only  at  tho  '  Hall,'  and  the  priest's,  and 
the  minister's.  Mrs.  Murray  has  but  one, - 
iu  her  best  parlor,"  said  Peggy. 

"Well,  you  deserve  as  good  a  carpet  as 
Mrs.  Murray,  and  I  shall  not  let  you  go 
till  you  promise  to  put  it  down,"  said  Miss 

Grey. 

Peggy  consented,  but  not  without  some 
fears  lor  her  influence  in  Killyrooke. 

«  And  when  ye  send  me  garments  to  make 
for  the  little  maids,"  she  said,  «  ye'U  remcm- 
Ver  that  they'll  be  just  poor  people's  children, 
ana  ..ot  send  things  too  fine,  to  make  them- 
Bclvcs  vain  or  others  invious." 

"  Certainly,  Mistress  Sheehan,  it  is  all  im- 
portant that  they  are  taught  their  position 
now  Keep  them  always  in  neat  pinafores  at 
school,  and  in  plain,  comfortable  dresses  and 
hats  at  church.  Train,  and  feed,  and  dress 
them  as  if  they  were  really  your  children,  and 
I  will  Answer  for  their  being  good  women," 

said  Miss  Grey.  ^ 

«  Ay,  dear  Miss  Grey,  they  are  tho  makm  8 
o'  lovely  women  by  natur',"  said  Peggy, "  and 


3. 

le  priest's,  and 
has  but  one,  — 

)d  a  carpet  as 
lot  let  you  go 
wn,"  said  Miss 

without    some 
•ooke. 

irraciits  to  make 
i, «  ye'll  romcin- 
)eople's  children, 
,  to  make  tliem- 

an,  it  is  all  ira- 
it  their  position 
neat  pinafores  at 
able  dresses  and 
feed,  and  dress 
our  children,  and 
g  good  women," 

;y  are  the  makin's 
said  Peggy, "  and 


A  HAPPY  " nOMEBRINGINa." 


257 


tlic  comfort  they  have  been  to  me  in  my  sor- 
row is  wonderful.  I've  just  tlic  love  o'  a 
mother  to  them,  and  many  the  time  I've 
thought  that  all  that's  been  allowed  to  come 
on  me  might  yet  work  out  for  double  good 
to  them  and  to  us." 

"I  believe,"  said  Miss  Grey,  "you  were 
truly  sent  hero  to  school  —  to  be  fitted  for  fu- 
ture work.  You  have  becu  a  faithful  learner. 
I  dou't  believe  your  old  neighbors  will  know 
you  as  the  sliy  woman  they  knew  four  years 
ago.  Do  you  remember  how  you  sufiered 
wiieu  my  poor  mother  insisted  ou  your  read- 
ing the  Bible  aloud  to  her  ?  Now  you  can 
read  to  half  a  dozen  without  trembling,  or 
s])elling,  cither."  - 

Peggy  smiled,  and  replied,  "  Yes,  and  not 
stop  at  the  long  words,  ather,  as  1  did  then. 
I  wonder  ivery  day  how  iver  ye  bore  with  ray 
shy,  stupid  ways  in  thim  days,  and  shall  strive 
to  return  yer  kindness  by  makin'  good  use  o' 
the  tachin'  I've  got  in  this  blisscd  home. 
And  if  sickness  or  sorrow  come  to  ye,  remem- 


OEMS  OF  THE  BOO. 

ber  yc'vo  always  a  sarvant  to  bid  to  ycr  side  iu 
me,  — day  or  nigiit,  ma'am." 

When  arrangements  were  being  made  for 
tbc  journey,  Peggy  begged  to  go  back  in  Bar- 
ney's  wagon,  as  she  should  feel  easier  there 
than  if  crowded- up  among  strangers.  Beside 
that,  she  wanted  to  see  the  kind  man  •■>  in, 
and  to  tell  him  that  the  Providence  he  had 
called  "luck"  had  made  all  bright  with  her, 
as  he  had  prophesied. 

As  Miss  Grey  declined  the  honor  of  having 
Barney's  establishment  drawn  up  before  her 
door  to  receive  four  passengers,  he  was  or- 
dered to  take  the  furniture  and  luggage;  and 
the  family  walked  on  and  seated  themselves  nx 
his  high  wagon,  when  he  arrived  at  the  mn 
where  he  always  put  up. 

The  greeting  between  Barney  and  Peggy 
was  like  that  of  old  friends,  and  as  soon  as 
they  had  cleared  the  stones  of  the  city  streets, 
Peg.ry  introduced  John  and  the  children  to 
him%nd  asked  very  kindly  after  his  wife,  m 
whose  sorrows  she  had  felt  so  much  sympathy. 


■f- 


pmpMwi 


MM 


OG. 

Did  to  ycr  side  in 

being  made  for 
go  back  in  Bar- 
feel  easier  there 
;rangers.  Beside 
kind  man  «  "in, 
ovidence  he  had 
I  bright  with  her, 

0  honor  of  having 
vn  up  before  her 
ugers,  he  was  or- 
ind  luggage;  and 
ited  themselves  in 
irrived  at  the  inn 

tarney  and  Peggy 
Is,  and  as  soon  as 

1  of  the  city  streets, 
id  the  children  to 
[y  after  his  wife,  in 

80  much  sympathy. 


A  HAPPY  " HOMEDRINGINO: 


259 


"  0,  she's  well,"  ho  replied.  "  Yo  mind 
1  wiis  telling  ye  yon  day  what  a  sore  heart  she 
had  about  the  little  fellows  wo  buried,  and  how 
t;ikcn  up  she  war  with  you  Methodises  in  our 

town  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  Well,  when  I  returned  home  after  dis- 
chariring  ye  at  the  lady's  door,  I  told  her  all 
about  yo  and  yer  throubles  —  the  cause  o' 
which  I  didn't  know.  I  told  her  what  ye  said 
about '  hick  '  bein'  the  hand  o"  God,  and  about 
the  great  [)cace  ye'd  got  in  yer  own  soul,  and 
the  good  advice  ye  gave  me  about  uiy  soul. 
And  what  does  my  wifo  do  but  go  tell  it  all  to 
the  Methodia'  ladcr,  and  the  next  meetin'  they 
had,  they  all  fell  to  prayin'  for  ye,  and  to 
givin'  thanks  for  the  marcy  o'  God  to  ye  in 
yer  sorrow.  They  culled  yo  right  out  by 
name,  and  first  one  prayed  that  yer  sorrow, 
whatever  it  was,  mig<  t  work  for  yer  glory, 
and  then  another  that  yer  '  .;.  'Jays  might  be 
ycr  usefulest  and  \\p  ^^'ui&i  day  *.  If  ye'd  been 
one  o'  thimsiives,  '.ear  Ik  rt.  they  couldn't 
made  more  izoisf?  a', nut  it,'     id  Barney,  who 


I 


2G0  OEMS  OF  THE  BOG. 

bad  put  the   reins  in  John's  hand    that  he 

xnight  turn  round  and  converse  with  Peggy.  ^^ 

"lam  just  one  of  themselves,  dear  man, 
Bhe  replied.    »  All  who  love  the  Lord  are  just 
te  hoV,  and  Christ  is  our  head.    When  yo 

,0  back,  tell  them  dear  saints  that  the  Lord 
L  taken  away  my  grief,  and  that  rm  now 

blessed  with  two  davlin'  little  ma.ds  as  war 
„.otherless  afore,  and  that  He  has  gnen  mo 
such  a  power  o' courage  that  I  can  spealc,  and 

read,  and  sing  to  as  many  neighbor-women  as 
.miisten  to  me,  about  Christ.  But,  greater 
norai,IVegottl.e  blessings  o'.alvat.on  for 

,„y  husband,  the  son  o'  the  holy  woman  I  told 
ye  of;  and  we  too  are  now  to  strive  for  Uke 

Lrcy  for  our  neighbors.     And  tell  mo  now, 

how  is  it  with  yer  own  soul?" 

upoor  enough,"  replied  Barney,  "as  far  as 

being  convarted  goes.    The  wife  talks  much 
like  yersilf,  and  has  joined  herself  to  than 
Methodises,  and  is  soro    worried  about  me 
She  confisses  that  I'm  another  man  from  the 
onoo'pastdays;fo.  I've  uiver  swore  an  oatl. 

Biuco  the  day  I  promised  ye  I  wouldu  t,  and 


,j;i|HgM:jtJ?HllW»»M'»W"»»'' 


'a  liand,  that  be 
:sc  with  Peggy. 
Ivea,  dear  man," 
the  Lord  arc  just 

head.    When  yo 
uts  that  the  Lord 
,ud  that  I'm  now 
ttle  maids  as  war 
He  haa  given  mo 
it  I  can  speak,  and 
neighbor-women  as 
irist.     But,  greater 
igs  o'   salvation  for 

holy  woman  I  told 
,w  to  strive  for  lilce 

And  tell  mo  now, 

I?" 

I  Barney,  "  as  far  as 
lio  wife  talks  much 
nod  herself  to  thira 

worried  about  mo. 
nother  man  from  the 

uivor  swore  an  oath 
I  ye  I  wouldn't,  and 


A  HAPPY  " nOMEBRINGINO: 


261 


I'm  strivin'  not  to  hate  tho  Papists ;  but 
that's  harder  nor  givui'  up  the  swariu',  I'm 
doin'  all  in  my  power  to  be  a  Christian,  such 
as  will  suit  my  wife  ;  for  beside  wantin'  to  go 
to  heaven  at  last,  I'd  bo  glad  to  make  her 
liappy,  for  slie's  had  a  soro  life  o't,  poor  thing, 
one  way  and  ajiother.  But  for  all  my  tryin' 
it's  a  small  headway  I  make,  this  fov." 

"  Then  stop  tryin'  to  quit  this  and  to  do 
that,  dear  man,"  said  Peggy.  "  What  would 
yc  say  to  a  wagoner  that  was  trying  to  make 
his  journey  by  whippin'  dead  horses  ?  " 

"  I'd  say  ho  war  a  fool,  intiroly,"  replied  the 
wagoner. 

"  And  yet  yo're  doing  just  that  same. 
Ye'ro  dead  in  trespasses  and  sins,  and  yo're 
whipping  up  and  cheerin'  on  ycr  dead  heart 
and  dead  will,  hopin'  they'll  got  yo  to  heaven 
liy-and-by.  Now  quit  this  folly,  and  in  yer 
dead  and  helpless  state  go  to  Christ  for  life. 
It's  by  Ilim,  and  not  by  onv  dead  selves,  that 
wo  make  this  journey,  or  else  we'll  fall  by  tho 
road  and  porish.  Now  if  one  promise  made 
to  luo  isas  liolpod  yo  to  keep  from  open   sin, 


<..,. 


262  OEMS  OF  TBE  BOO. 

„»ay  be  another  will  bclp  ye  to  Christ.     Will 
yo  cease  striving  to  make  yersilf  holy,  and  go 

to  Him  just  as  ye  are,  and  beg  for  a  sheu-em 

His  holiness?     He  has  plenty  o'  it  to  dmdo 
among  us  all,  and  then  have  pcrfcethohncss 

left.    Will  ye  go  to  him  thus,  and  not  u.suU 
Him  by  expectin'  to  get  credit  for  not  profan- 
ing  His  holy  name,  and  the  like  wickedness  ? 
"  I  will,"  said  Barney,  in  a  subdued  tone, 
u  And  give  my  love  to  yer  wife,  and  all  the 
Methodises,  and  tell  them  the    Lord    heard 
them  for  mo.    Vorhaps  H.o   times  1  ve  bem. 
lifted  above  all  nrll.nnd   felt  like  them  that 
wan  takouou  to  the  mount  with  lumself  and 
BawIIis  glory,  wuH  just  when  they  was  plead- 

,,^,  ,,,,  ,„.,     It's  a  short  road  that's  between 
them  that's  separated,  when  that  road  lies  past 

the  mercy-seat."  . 

John,  who  hud  many  times  i«tl«n  tbo  rems 

i„„iHlerM.and  while  he  wiped  his  tearn  away 
with  the  right,  turned  round  now  and  asked 
Foggy,    "Couldn't    yo    sing    yon    hymn    o 
Charles  Wesley's  to  the  good  man  ?  " 
.  Ay,  if  bo'd  like,"  said  Peggy,  "  aud  liUle 


4^^ 


m 


A  HAPPY  " HOME-BRINGINO." 


263 


9. 

J  Christ.     Will 

If  holy,  and  go 

for  a  share  iu 

o'  it  to  divide 
perfect  holiness 
8,  and  not  insult 

for  not  profan- 
;o  wickedness  ?  " 
subdued  tone, 
wife,  and  all  the 
tlio    Lord    heard 

times  I'vo  been 
It  like  them  that 
with  himself  and 
m  tlicy  was  plead- 
ad  that's  between 
that  road  lies  past 

08  iakofi  the  reins 
pod  liis  tears  awny 
ind  now  and  asked 
ing  yon  hymn  o' 
:)d  man  1  " 
Poggy,  "  aud  little 


Bessie  may  put  in  with  her  swate  voice,  too, 
for  she's  lamed  it  lovely." 
And  they  sang,  in  clear,  sweet  tones,  — 

"  Depth  of  mercy  !  can  there  be 
Mercy  still  reserved  for  me  T 
Can  my  God  his  wrath  forbear, 
Me  the  chief  of  sinners  spare  T  " 

Before  Peggy's  departure  from  her  house, 
Miss  Grey  had  written  to  Mr.  Murray  ask- 
ing him  to  receive  her  at  the  "  turn  o'  the 
road,"  and  while  they  were  lumbering  on  in 
Barney's  wagon,  talking  and  singing,  Paddy 
was  waiting  by  the  heap  of  stones  where  he  had 
uttered  his  "  last  words  "  several  days  before, 
with  the  donkey  wagon.  When  they  came  in 
siglit,  he,  in  true  oriental  stylo,  lifted  up  his 
voice  and  wept.  He  took  Peggy  and  the  little 
girls  out  of  the  wagon  in  his  arms,  and  in  his 
foolisli  joy  attempted  to  do  the  same  for  John  ; 
but  his  love  couldn't  work  miracles.  After  an 
alToctionate  farewell  to  Barney,  Peggy  was  sur- 
prised to  see  Mr.  Murray  standing  near  them. 

With  a  kind  greeting,  ho  said,  "  Mrs.  Mur- 
lay  scuds  mo  to  bring  you  all  to  her  for  a  cup 


MH 


-f- 


■k 


264 


OklUS  OF  THE  BOG 


of  tea,  and  then  you  can  walk  to  tlio  cottage 
in  the  evening." 

Tliis  was  an  act  of  condescension  which 
hronght  blushes  to  Peggy's  cheek,  but  notic- 
ing how  Paddy's  counteuanco  fell,  she  was 
going  to  decline  tho  invitation,  when  Mr. 
Murray  said, — 

"  And  Paddy  must  come  back  when  he's 
taken  home  his  load  and  put  up  the  donkey. 
Kate  and  Tim  will  be  glad  if  he'll  join  them 
at  a  cup  of  tea  in  the  kitchen." 

Paddy's  face  was  radiant  with  smiles,  and 
bowing  almost  to  tho  ground,  ho  exclaimed, 
*'  Yer  riverenco  is  a  jintleraan,  and  I'll  l)«  back 
in  less  nor  an  hour  — as  soon  as  Pve  milked, 
and  daconted  myself  up  fit  for  the  honor,  in 
my  bist  shuto." 

A  smile  passed  over  the  faces  of  the  little 
group,  and  thus  encouraged,  Paddy  caught  off 
his  old  hat,  and  striking  a  heroic  attitude, 
spoke  the  following  "  varses  "  .mpromptu : 

••  When  from  her  home  the  misthress  wint. 
Poor  Paddy  howled  a  loud  laralnt ; 
And  all  the  time  she  war  away, 
Bhe  aarvod  a  lady  named  A.  Iss  Grey. 


A  HAPPY  " homebrinoinq: 


265 


isceusiou  which 
heek,  but  notic- 
0  fell,  sho  was 
ticn,   when   Mr. 

back  when   bo's 

up  the  donkey. 

'  ho'U  join  them 

vith  smiles,  and 
i,  iio  exclaimed, 
,  and  I'll  1)0  back 
as  I've  milked, 
for  the  honor,  in 

aces  of  the  littlo 
Paddy  caught  otf 
heroic   attitude, 
'  .'.mvromptu : 

nlsthress  wint, 

imlnt ; 

ly, 

88  Qrey. 


"  And  in  thim  four  long,  cruel  yean 
Paddy  shed  buckets  full  of  tears; 
Ilia  checks  grew  thin,  his  hair  grew  gray. 
His  sinses  well  nigh  flew  away. 

"  So  often  Paddy  told  his  beads, 

He  wore  thim  down  to  mustard  seeds; 

He  nather  laughed,  nor  ate,  nor  slipt. 

But  howled,  and  sighed,  and  groaned,  and  wipt. 

"  But  now  the  storm  is  passed  away. 
The  misthress  comes  again  to-day, 
Long  shine  the  sun  on  Daisy  Farm  ! 
And  keep  the  cottage  safe  from  harm. 

"  Here  Paddy  throws  his  beads  away. 
And  from  the  misthress  lams  to  pray  ; 
No  more  a  Papist  lad  he'll  be. 
But  Protestant,  as  all  shall  see." 

And  witli  this  pledge  he  took  aim  and  threw 
his  beads  as  far  as  ho  could  down  the  road, 
and  then  hastened  homo  with  his  load,  that  he 
might  prepare  for  his  return   to   the  parson- 

Wiien  the  moon  ro80  high,  shedding  a  silver 
lijj;ht  over  the  landscape,  and  giving  a  charm 
even  to  the  poor  cottages  on  tlio  road,  the 
littlo  family,  accompanied  by  their  faitliful 
minister,  walked  from  Cloynmally  to  the  cot- 


J 


J 


OEMS  OF  THE  BOO. 

tage.  John  carried  the  eldest  child  in  his 
arms,  while  Paddy  brought  up  the  rear  with 
the  other  on  his  shoulder,  galloping  and  oc- 
casionally neighing  like  a  horse  for  her  amuse- 
ment. 

When  the  neighbors  saw  a  light  twinkling 
from  the  cottage  window,  and  heard  the  voice 
of  prayer  and  praise  ascending  on  the  still  air, 
they  knew  that  old  things  had  passed  away, 
and  that  all  things  had  become  new  '-here. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

THE  NEW  LIFE  AT  DAISY  FABM. 

TO  the  little  girls,  who  had  rarely  seen  a 
green  field,  Killyrooko,  with  its  acres  of 
flax  and  barley,  was  like  a  picture  of  fairy- 
land. The  low,  rude  cottage  was  a  wonder 
to  them,  ;ind  the  flowers  and  vines  about  it 
wore  a  source  of  perfect  delight.  Tlie  greatest 
charm  of  the  place,  however,  was  the  "  life  " 
it  contained.  They  wore  allowed  to  stroke 
the  necks  of  Silverhorn  and  the  Maid  of  Long- 
ford, to  feed  the  calf  and  the  lambs  with  meal 
from  their  own  hands,  and  to  ride  on  the 
donkey's  back. 

Before  they  had  been  many  days  at  Daisy 
Farm  tlisy  went  to  the  mill  with  Paddy, 
seated  on  the  bag  of  barley  in  the  donkoy-cart, 
and  during  the  ride  were  entertained  with  mar- 
velous stories  and  wild  Irish  songs.     When 

967 


i 


I 


268 


OEMS  OF  THE  BOO. 


John  asked  Marion  which  of  all  his  «  ciaturs" 
she  liked  best,  the   door,   or  the  calf,  or    the 
lambs,  or  tlie  cows,  or  the  donkey,  she  replied, 
innocently,  "Oh,  I  like  the  funny,  kind  man 
the  best  of  them  all,  -  dear  Paddy  Mannon." 
And  from  the  hour  of  their  arrival  at  the  cot- 
tage, Paddy  Mannon   became  the   nurse,   the 
palron   and   the  hero  of   the  children.      He 
would   not  go  to  mill  or  to  market  without 
them,  and  insisted  that  the  cows  stood  more 
quietly  while  he  was  milking  "  if  the  small 
bit  girlies  were  aside  thim  with    their  soft 

voices." 

•  He  soon  grew  so  proud  of  them  that  he 
overcame  his  fear  of  apostasy  and  of  Father 
Clakey,  and  went  to  the  Presbyterian  church 
with  the  family,  to  hear  what  people  said 
about  the  little  new-comers  after  service. 

When  P  iggy  began  life  again  at  the  cottage, 
her  Bible  was  kept  open  on  a  little  table  in 
her  kitchen.  She  told  her  neighbors,  who 
dropped  in  one  by  one  to  welcome  her  back, 
that  she  should  read  aloud  from  it  every  day 
for  an  hour  before  sunset ;  and  that  if  any 


a. 

I  his  "  ciatura  " 
10  calf,  or  tho 
:ey,  she  replied, 
mny,  kind  man 
addy  Maiinon." 
■ival  at  tho  cot- 
the   nurse,   the 

children.  Ho 
market  without 
0W8  stood  more 

"if  the  small 
with    their  soft 

f  them  that  ho 
r  and  of  Father 
byteriau  church 
lat    people    said 
er  service. 
n  at  the  cottage, 
a  little  table  in 
neighbors,   who 
ilcomo  hor  back, 
rom  it  every  day 
and  that  if  any 


THE  NEW  LIFE  .  T  DAISY  FARM. 


269 


among  them  wished  to  hear  the  Word  of  the 
Lord  they  might  come  witli  their  knitting  at 
that  time.  If  they  had  not  yarn,  she  offered 
to  supply  them ;  and  also  to  set  up  stockings 
for  such  as  were  not  knitters,  and  to  teach 
tliem  to  shape  and  to  narrow  them  off. 

As  Miss  Grey  had  predicted,  the  simple 
people  looked  on  Peggy  in  her  new  attire  and 
witli  her  new  confidence,  as  a  lady  who  had 
seen  the  world,  and  all  questions  were  soon 
referred  to  her  for  settlement.  It  was  marve- 
lous to  see  the  errands  which  were  made  to 
tho  cottage  just  before  sunset  by  such  as  were 
too  timid  to  accept  her  invitations.  Ono  camo 
to  borrow  a  measure  of  meal  or  a  few  eggs, 
another  to  ask  what  would  cure  the  toothache, 
and  a  third  to  inquire  for  tho  health  of  the 
two  little  girls  ;  and  once  there,  they  remained 
to  hear  Peggy  read.  Thus,  from  beginning 
the  readings  with  John,  Paddy  and  the  chil- 
dren, she  scon  had  a  dozen  listeners.  Some- 
times they  would  ask  her  questions,  which 
gave  her  opportunity  to  explain  tho  passages 
she  read  —  which  were  usually  from  tho  life 


•Tt/^temmkaMKin 


^^■■flii 


SfO 


OEMS  OF  THE  BOG. 


and  the  teachings  of  Jesus.  She  had  learned 
many  sweet  hymus,  with  tunes  now  to  them, 
to  which  they  listened  with  great  pleasure, 
and  not  a  fe«  of  them  began  to  long  for  an 
interest  in  the  love  which  had  upheld  their 
neighbor  in  her  sorrows,  and  which  now  added 
such  charms  to  her  simple  life. 

During  these  readings,  John  always  sat  with 
his  face  buried  in  his  hands,  as  if  in  prayer. 
His  riauncr  was  ever  marl<ed  with  the  deepest 
solemnity,  like  that  of  one  who  felt  his  own 
weakness  and  God's  power ;  who  walked  under 
His  eye,  and  feared  by  one  trifling  word  to 
grieve  Him  wlio  had  forgiven  so  much.    He 
said  little  ;  but  the  crops,  and  the  "  craturs," 
and  all  he  had,  were  laid  on  the  altar  of  the 
Lord,  and  he  was  ready,  at  any  hour  of  the 
day  or  night,  » to  lend  a  helping  hand  in  work 
or  in  sickness  to  any  neighbor  who  would  con- 
descend  to    accept   his   help."      The    proud 
Pharisee  was  humbled  in  the  dust,  and  could 
barely  hope  that  he  was  forgiven  ;  he  could 
not  rejoice  in  hope,  and  he  never  stood  by 
Peggy    on   the    mount.      Like   Thomas,   he 


THE  NEW  LIFE  AT  DAISY  FARM. 


271 


3  had  loarnod 
new  to  tliem, 
rcat  pleasure, 
to  long  for  an 
upheld  their 
ich  now  added 

ilways  sat  with 
s  if  in  prayer, 
ith  the  deepest 
0  felt  his  own 
0  walked  under 
trifling  word  to 

so  much.    He 

tljo  "  craturs," 
the  altar  of  the 
my  hour  of  the 
ig  hand  in  work 
who  would  con- 
,"      The    proud 

dust,  and  could 
•given  ;  he  could 

never  stood  by 
,ke   Thomas,   he 


doubted,  but  like  him,  also,  he  conld  cry, 
ab  times,  "  My  Lord  and  my  God."  The 
solemnity  of  eternity  was  impressed  on  his 
countenance,  and  his  old  good-natured  smile 
had  given  way  to  a  grave  and  thoughtful  ex- 
pression. His  neighbors  were  amazed,  and 
watched  in  vain  for  his  old  boasting.  He  was 
no  longer  "  John  Sheehan,  the  thriftiest  far- 
mer and  the  moralest  Christian  in  Killyrooke, 
giving  all  men  their  dues  and  feeding  the 
nady,"  but  confessed  himself  to  be  "  the  chief 
of  sinners." 

When  Peggy  strove  to  encourage  and 
strengthen  his  hope,  she  would  sometimes 
ask, — 

"  Why  bhould  the  children  of  a  King 
Go  mourning  all  th«r  days  ?  " 

"Ah,  Peggy, jewel,"  he  would  reply,  '■'■  what 
right  have  I  to  rejoice  like  other  saved  ones  ? 
It  is  joy  enough  for  me  that  I'm  not  in 
despair;  that  I've  a  hope  o'  heaven  at  last. 
How  could  I  bo  smilin'  and  merry,  that  has 
crucified  the  Lord  afresh,  and  put  Him  to  an 
open  shame  ?    The  wounds  I  gave  to  Him  and 


y--     ~T 


i 


mM 


mmm 


:'^.iiii^.>~'-ir---.y^-^^^y^;\.'Ki^iije,.j^,^^^^^  ■■i^irriit(i>:"*or.-^-"^"i '■■  ■.■-nJ'i.-S**    -i'^.  iv-.^.V.v  c 


t^m^mm^Bim 


MMI 


,0. 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


O 


7 


1.0 

Ji'  llllitt 

If"     1^0 

I.  , 

I.I 

1.25 

1.4 

—     6" 


Photographic 
Sciences 
>rporation 


IM 
M 

1.6 


23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER.  NY.  14580 

(716)  e7a-4S03 


L., 


■^■■■■WffjTWM  ■■iH,lP»J.i*fi|W^*>.Vi|".  ,1  ---'-  V^X' 


JM 


^  > 


'<"  'W^.. 


<? 


i 


CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHJVI/ICMH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microreproductions  /  Institut  Canadian  d«  microraproductions  historiquas 


-^' 


272 


OEMS  OF  TEE  BOO. 


to  yo,  darlin',  is  iver  aforo  my  eyes,  as  well  as 
tlic  marcy  that  has  forgiven  me.  So  I  can 
iiiver  turn  from  tliis  siglit  to  look  after  what 
otlicrs  call  joy.  My  joy  and  my  crown  is  to 
lie  in  the  dust  and  cry  '  Unclaiic,  unclane,'  and 
to  tarn  from  my  pollution  to  His  holiness. 
With  that  afore  mo,  I'm  afeared  to  open  my 
lips  lest  I  sin  against  God  again.  If  I  kapo 
near  to  Him  and  to  yo  I'm  safe  an<l  paceful, 
and  that's  all  I'll  ask  till  I  see  Him  as  He 


is.' 


And  yet  John  was  just  as  diligent  in  busi- 
ness as  when   his  thoughts  were  all  centered 
in  the  farm.     Ho  at  once  set  himself  to  enlarg- 
ing and  repairing  the  cottage,  a  work  requir- 
ing  little    skill    or  little    money.      Ho    and 
Paddy  laid  the   stone  for  the   now  room,  and 
filled  the  crevices  witli  a  clay  mortar  of  their 
own  mixing.     When  this  was  done,  the  joiner 
from  Cloynmally  came  with  hoards  and  tools 
to  lay   the  floor,   and   to   put  in   three   new 
windows,— for  even   Paddy  was  to  havo  one 
in  his  loft,  as  Miss  Grey  had  ordered ;  and 
over  this  luxury  ho  was  so  jubilant  that  he 


"Tt'T'^AM^V''"    'f^' 


eyes,  as  well  as 
me.  So  I  can 
look  after  what 
my  crown  is  to 
le,  uiiclaiie,'  and 
;o  His  holiness, 
red  to  open  my 
;ain.  If  I  kapo 
ifo  an<l  paceful, 
SCO  Him  as  He 

diligent  in  busi- 
'oro  all  centered 
limself  to  enlarg- 
5,  a  work  requir- 
onoy.  Ho  and 
)  new  room,  and 
J  mortar  of  their 

done,  the  joiner 
boards  and  tools 
nt  in  three  new 
was  to  have  one 
ad  ordered ;  and 

jubilant  that  he 


THE  NEW  LIFE  AT  DAISY  FARM. 


273 


forgave  her  for  being  "  an  inimy  to  the  whole 
male  sict." 

Wlion  all  was  done,  John  and  Peggy  spent 
days  in  untangling  "  the  dear  vines  about 
Mainuiy  Honey's  window,"  and  training  them 
round  tlic  corner  so  as  "  to  hide  up  the  now 
part,  wliich  had  no  home  look,"  as  Peggy  said. 
Tlicn  the  carpet  was  laid,  the  cliairs,  and 
tallies,  and  pictures  which  Miss  Grey  had  sent 
wiTC  put  into  the  new  i-oom.  All  Killyrooke 
cauio  to  admire,  and  to  wonder  "  at  the  luck 
wlii'!h  had  come  to  the  mistress  out  of  her 
great  sorrow." 

Into  this  little  parlor  tho  Bible  and  hymn- 
liook  were  now  removed,  and  here  Peggy  and 
tlic  cliildrcn  sat  when  the  labors  of  the  cottage 
were  over,  to  knit,  and  sew,  and  read ;  'xnd  it 
was  into  this  room  that  the  sunset  visitors 
were  liercaftov  to  bo  ushered.  • 

Tho  lady  at  the  Hall  became  deeply  inter- 
e^tod  in  Peggy's  effort  to  improve  her  careless 
neighbors.  She  came  in  her  carriage  to  visit 
hor,  and  to  hear  the  story  of  tho  little  girls 
and  of  all   Miss   Orey's  kindness.      She  ez- 


274 


OEMS  OF  THE  BOO. 


pressed  great  pleasure  in  the  success  of  the 
mmot  rcadhig  and   the  knitting  school,  and 
promised  to  send  dovvn  yarn  for   all  the   httlo 
girls  who  would  learn  to  knit  their  own  stock- 
in<rs.     "Ilis  reverence  is  a  little   stirred   up, 
my  good  Peggy,"  she  said,  "about  the  read- 
ing.    Believing,  as  he  does,  that  the  common 
people, -the  ignorant,  I  mean, -arc  injured 
by  hearing  what  they  cannot  understand,  he 
feels  that  he  ought  to  forbid  the  cottagers  com- 
ing to  you  so  much,   and  yet  he  knows  your 
kindness,  and  is  pained  to  interfere  with  you. 
Could  you  not  teach  these  people  to  knit,  and 
to  be  virtuous  and  peaceable,  without  reading 
the  Bible  to  them,  and   thus  not  wrong   the 
poor  man,  whose  heart  is  nearly  broken  with 
the  wild  creatures?     If  not,  I  fear  the  bishop 
will  bid  him  break  up  the  '  teachings.'  " 

Peggy's  fn-st  impulse  was  to  tell  the  Catholic 
lady  that  she  had  no  master  but  Christ,  and 
that  she  should  pay  no  heed  cither  to  priest  or 
bishop.  But  she  know-  this  would  deprive  her 
of  all  opportunity  of  doing  the  poor  women 
good.    So  she  wisely  replied,  "I    could  re- 


ill 


'm»'sm«m^''''f^^''^^'^^^^*^^' ' 


)0. 

success   of  tho 
ting  school,   and 
or   all  the   littlo 
tlicir  own  stock- 
ittle   sUrred   up, 
'about  the  read- 
liat  tho  common 
,n,  —  arc  injured 
t  understand,  he 
le  cottagers  cora- 
t  ho  knows  your 
itorfere  with  you. 
iople  to  knit,  and 
!,  without  reading 
iS  not  wrong   tho 
early  broken  with 
I  fear  tiio  bishop 
lachings.' " 
to  tell  the  Catholic 
3r  but  Christ,  and 

cither  to  priest  or 
would  deprive  her 
t  tho  poor  women 
led,  "I    could  re- 


THE  NEW  LIFE  AT  DAISY  FARM. 


275 


pato  varses,  and  give  advice,  and  sing  hymns 
t(j  llicm,  my  lady,  without  opening  the  lids 
o'  my  book,  if  that's  what  troubles  Father 
Cl;ikoy." 

"  Do  so,  then,  my  good  woman,  and  I  will 
p'.ouiise  you  shall  not  bo  interfered  with," 
said  tho  lady.  "  If  you  need  yarn  or  cloth 
for  the  work,  send  to  mO  ;  and  como  to  the 
Hall  now  and  then  with  your  report.  I  will 
stand  between  you  and  Father  Clakey  in  the 
matter." 

Tho  honor  of  this  visit,  and  tho  memory 
of  tho  fine  carriage  and  bay  horses  with 
liveried  men  halting  before  the  cottage,  raised 
Peggy  not  a  little  iu  the  esteem  of  her  neigh- 
bors. They  felt  it  a  great  honor  to  know  ono 
Avhom  tho  lady  of  tho  Hall  had  deigned  to 
visit.  Paddy,  although  he  saw  the  fine  equip- 
ago  frequently  on  tho  road,  was  so  awe-stricken 
l)y  its  standing  before  the  cottage  door,  that 
ho  ran  into  tho  cow-house  and  hid  himself  in 
tiio  loft  till  it  was  gone. 

Peggy  sat  down  at  her  little  table,  and 
taking  up   her  hynm-book,  began    to    select 


.'i 


S76 


OEILS  OF  THE  BOG. 


Buch  portions  as   should   comprise  the  whole 
gospel. 

She  strove  on  that  evening  to  impress  the 
minds  of  her  visitors  with  the  sinfulness  of 
their  own  hearts,  and  drew  out  their  ideas  on 
the  subject.  Then  she  sang  the  hymn  be- 
ginning,-- 

"  How  sad  our  state  by  natui-o  is. 

Our  sin  how  deep  its  stain! 
And  Satan  binds  our  captive  minds 

Fast  in  his  slavish  chain.' ' 

After  explaining  to  them  their  own  helpless- 
ness, while  thus  exposed  to  God's  wrath  for 
having  broken  His  laws,  she  told  them  how 
vain  were  all  their  penances,  as  well  as  their 
prayers  to  the  Virgin  and   saints,  which   only 
robbed  God  of  His  glory.     Then  in  her  simple 
way   she  held  up    Jesus  as   the   friend    and 
lover  of   the  poor,  till    tears  fell   from  the 
eyes    of   her    listeners,  and    some    of   them 
asked,  "  Why  doesn't  Father  Clakoy  tell  us 
all  this?" 

When  the  hour  was  over,    and  the  knit- 
ting-needles were  passed  through  the  ball  to 


S35S: 


isG  the  whole 

)  impress   the 

sinfulness  of 

their  ideas  on 

,ho  hyinu  be- 


tninds 

own  helpless- 
od's  wrath  for 
old  them  how 
IS  well  as  their 
its,  whicli  only 
11  in  her  simple 
lio   friend    and 

fell  from  the 
some  of  them 
Clakoy  tell  us 

and  the  knit- 
igh  the  ball  to 


THE  NEW  LIFE  AT  DAISY  FARM.         277 

be  put  away,  the  guests  rose  and  stood  while 
Peggy  and  the  little  girls  sang,— 

"  Alns,  and  did  ray  Saviour  bleed, 

And  did  my  Sovereign  die  7 
Would  He  devote  that  sacred  head 

For  such  a  worm  as  1 7  " 

Although  this  effort  of  the  loving  creature 
was  anything  but  agreeable  to  the  priest,  and 
ho  scolded  well  out  of  doors  about  it,  he  never 
actually  forbade  the  women  to  go  to  the  cot- 
tage, but  satisfied  his  conscience  by  charging 
them  not  to  listen  to  licresy  there. 

And  thus,  amid  home  cares,  — which  with 
her  had  become  religious  duties,  — and  efforts 
.  for  the  salvation  of  others,  the  years  slippc;- 
by  far  more  peacefully  and  happily  than  before 
"the  great  sorrow."  John  was  the  soul  of 
love  and  tenderness,  and  Paddy  outdid  him- 
self in  loyalty  and  attention. 

The  little  maids,  now  strong,  sensible  child- 
•en,  wont  to  a  school  in  Cloynraally,  which 
^vas  kept  by  a  good  sister  of  Elder  Peter,  who, 
"nliko  him,  was  of  a  most  gentle  spirit.' 
When    the  weather    was    fine    they   walked, 


278 


OEMS  OF  THE  BOG. 


carrying  their  dinner  in  a  small  wooden 
bucket.  When  it  stormed,  they  were  driven 
over  by  Paddy  in  the  donkey-cart,  being  cuter- 
taiucd  on  the  way  with  marvelous  talcs  of- 
his  travels  in  the  moon,  and  his  sailing  and 
fishing  in  the  clouds,  and  with  merry,  harm- 
less old  Irish  ballads.  So  charming  were 
these  rides,  with  such  company,  that  tlicy  both 
longed  for  storms. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 


THE    ENEMY   AGAIN. 


WHEN  Bessie  and  Marion  were  about 
eight  and  ten  years  old,  there  was  to  bo 
a  fair  and  horse-race  a  few  miles  from  the  cot- 
tage. The  night  before  the  races,  Peggy  was 
roused  from  a  quiet  sleep  by  a  peal  of  loud 
laughter,  which  rang  out  wildly  on  the  mid- 
night air,  causing  her  to  spring  from  her  pil- 
low as  if  an  arrow  had  pierced  her.  She  laid 
her  hand  on  her  heart  to  still  its  beating, 
but  in  vain.  A  company  of  merry-makers 
tramped  by  the  cottage,  singing  snatches  of 
wild  songs,  and  chatting  and  shouting  to  each 
other.  She  was  wondering  why  the  noise 
should  have  startled  her  so  painfully,  and  why 
she  felt  so  wretched,  when  the  same  shrill 
laughter  broke  forth  again,  almost  beneath  her 
window.    Then,  fully  awake,  she  ki.ew  the  un- 

Si79 


-  » ■"  'ISS.tj^itS'lni  *«RWv^ 


280 


GE3fS  OF  THE  BOO. 


hallowed  voice  that  had  so  often  rung  through 
the  low  rooms  of  the  cottage.  It  was  hera 
•who  had  broken  its  peace. 

The  light  from  half  a  dozen  lanterns  flashed 
for  a  moment  across  the  wall,  and  then  the 
tramping  of  feet  and  the  humming  of  voices 
gradually  died  away  in  the  distance.     Anguish 
unknown  since  the  day  she  first  returned  to 
her  homf  to  find  an  intruder  there,  rushed  like 
an  overwhelming  billow  across  her  heart,  and 
seemed  to  swallow  her  up.     She  sank  help- 
lessly into  a  chair,  and  felt  for  a  moment  as  if 
all  were  again  lost  to  her.    The  tempter  ap- 
peared for  a  season,  and  whispered  that  God 
had  forgotten  to  bo   gracious,   and   that  her 
enemy  would  yet  triumph  over  her. 

But  in  a  moment  she  knew  whence  these 
suggestions  came,  and  she  whispered,  "  No, 
Satan,  ye  cannot  beguiltj  me ! 

••  •  Tho  soul  that  on  Jesus  has  leaned  for  repose, 
^0  will  not,  He  will  not  desert  to  His  foes; 
■i  ^at  soul,  though  all  hell  should  endeavor  to  shake, 
He'll  never,  no,  never,  no,  never  forsake.'  " 

And  lifting  her  hands  and  her  eyes,  she 


liL 


rung  through 
It  was  hera 

litems  flashed 
and  thfii  the 
ming  of  voices 
nee.     Anguish 
3t  rcturnod  to 
re,  rushed  like 
her  heart,  and 
she  sank  hclp- 
1  moment  as  if 
'he  tempter  ap- 
pered  that  God 
and  that  her 
her. 

T  whence  those 
liispered,  "  No, 


for  repose, 
is  foes; 

Jeavor  to  shake, 
rsake.' " 

her  eyes,  she 


THE  ENEMY  AGAIN.  281 

said,  with  a  smile,  " '  Thou  wilt  keep  them  in 
perfect  peace  whoso  minds  are  stayed  on 
Thee  ; '  and  if  ever  poor  woman  was  helped  to 
stay  herself  on  God,  Peggy  Sheehau  has 
been." 

Aiid  again  "  the  great  peace  "  came  over  her 
soul,  and  she  was  lifted  above  all  her  fears. 
She  returned  to  her  pillow,  and  like  a  child 
under  the  mother's  watchful  eye,  fell  asleep, 
and  only  woke  iu  time  to  see  the  sun  rise  over 
tlic  bog.  The  sudden  terror  of  the  night  had 
left  no  impression  on  her  mind,  save  that  of 
calmness  and  peace,  and  she  went  about  her 
lowly  duties  in  the  kitchen  And  dairy,  singing 
with  a  thankful  spirit. 

The  races  brought  a  great  many  strangers  to 
the  neighborhood.  Some  of  these  were  very 
rough  characters,  and  Peggy  resolved  to  keep 
the  little  girls  at  home  from  school  for  a  few 
days,  till  the  road  should  be  clear  of  them. 
Tliey  employed  the  first  holiday  in  stringing 
thorn-berries  on  long  threads  to  decorate  tho 
horns  of  the  cows,  and  tho  necks  of  the  deer 
and  lambs.    When  Bessie  wearied  of  this  sho 


issasssss*-'^ 


r 


282 


OEMS  OF  THE  BOO. 


went  into  tho  cottage  to  her  knitting,  leaving 
Marion  outside  tho  hedge  alone.  When 
supper  was  ready,  tljo  little  one  came  in  with 
a  gilt  chain  suspended  from  her  neck,  attached 
to  which  was  a  small  locket,  containing,  under 
a  glass,  a  bunch  of  miniature  flowers, —  a 
pretty  little  trifle,  such  as  was  to  be  bought  at 
the  booths  for  a  sliilling. 

"  0,  look,  mammy ! "  she  said,  "  see  my 
present,  and  I've  got  sugar  plums,  too." 

"  Poor  Paddy  wastes  his  money  to  plazo  ye, 
little  dear,"  said  Peggy,  looking  with  interest 
at  the  bauble. 

"  0,  no,  it  was  not  Paddy  gave  it  me,"  cried 
tho  child.  "It  was  a  pretty  lady  that  says 
you're  not  my  mother.  But  you're  a  dear 
mammy,  and  I  love  you  more  than  she,  if 
your  cheeks  arn't  red.  I  love  pale  cheeks  and 
gray  hair  best."  And  tho  innocent  child 
climbed  to  Peggy's  knee,  and  covered  her 
with  kisses  as  she  sat  at  the  table. 

"  Her  mother  can  never  surely  have  found 
us  out,  poor  thing  !  Pd  never  a  thought  she 
war  living,"  exclaimed  Peggy. 


•i  — 


oa. 

knitting,  leaving 
I  alono.  When 
one  came  in  with 
er  neck,  attached 
jontaining,  under 
uro  flowers,  —  a 
,s  to  bo  bought  at 

!  said,  "  see  my 
nms,  too." 
loney  to  plazo  ye, 
ing  with  interest 

;avo  it  me,"  cried 
y  lady  that  says 
it  you're  a  dear 
lore  than  she,  if 
3  pale  cheeks  and 
)  innocent  child 
and  covered  her 
able. 

surely  have  found 
ver  a  thought  she 


THE  ENEMY  AGAIN. 


283 


"Never,"  replied  John.  "It's  no  mother 
of  hers,  but  mayhap  some  evil-disposed  body 
that  would  be  staling  her  for  her  beauty  or  her 
clotlios.  How  looked  she,  darliu'  ?  War  she 
a  beggar-woman  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  she  was  a  bit  of  a  lady,  or  nigh  to  a 
lady.  She  had  red  cheeks,  and  roses  in  her 
liat,  and  I  kissed  her  because  she  gave  me  this 
and  the  sugar  plums.  She  said  I  must  hate 
Paddy  Mannon,  poor  Paddy." 

"No,  darling,"  replied  Peggy,  "ye  must 
love  him.  Hell  kind  and  good  ;  and  if  he  war 
not,  ye  must  niver  hate  him.  God  bids  us  love 
avcn  our  iniraies,  ye  know.  If  iver  ye  see  this 
woman  more,  Marion,  do  70  run  into  the  cot- 
tage at  once,  lest  she  run  off  with  ye,  and 
break  my  heart." 

That  horrid  peal  of  laughter  Vas  recalled  to 
Peggy's  mind,  and  she  had  little  doubt  but  her 
old  tormentor  was  in  the  neighborhood,  and 
had  spoken  thus  to  Marion  simply  to  annoy 
her.  She  was  sure  Nan  did  not  want  the 
child,  and  if  she  had  believed  otherwise  her 
faith  was  too  strong  that  day  to  bo  shaken. 


iT="' 


284 


GEMS  OP  THE  BOG. 


Had  a  host  encamped  against  the  cottage,  she 
would  have  dwelt  in  peace. 

After  supper  the  children  led  Peggy  out  to 
see  how  thoy  had  dressed  the  cows,  deer  and 
laml)s  with  haw-berries.  As  thoy  came  near 
the  cow-house  they  heard  sobs,  and  looking  in, 
saw  Paddy  Mannon  standing  in  a  corner,  with 
his  face  pressed  closo  to  the  wall,  weeping  bit- 
terly. 

"  What  can  ail  ye,  boy  ? "  asked  Peggy  in 
surprise  ;  for  Paddy  was  one  of  thoso  fortunate 
mortab  who  scorn  exempt  from'tho  sorrows  of 
life^_who,  having  nothing,  can  lose  nothing. 

He  turned  round  and  replied,  "  Send  tho 
small  things  into  tho  cottage,  and  thin  if  yo'll 
promise  not  to  turn  white  and  scare  me,  I'll 
tell  ye  what  a  evil  has  come  to  us." 

When  they  were  alone  he  continued,  "  I  had 
a  visit  from  Nan,  and  she  bid  mo  get  tho  tin 
pounds  I  told  yo  on,  or  she'd  walk  into  tho 
cottage.  I  war  just  quite  bravo  at  first,  and  I 
told  her  it  war  mysilf  hired  her  friend  to  woo 
her  ofif,  and  I  threatened  her  with  tho  magis* 
trate,  and  the  like.     And  didn't  she  up  and 


VIE  Boa. 

ainat  the  cottage,  she 

rcn  led  Peggy  out  to 
d  the  cows,  door  and 
As  they  came  near 
sobs,  and  lookuig  in, 
Ihig  in  a  corner,  with 
;ho  wall,  weeping  bit- 

)y  ?  "  asked  Peggy  in 
one  of  those  fortunate 
it  from* the  sorrows  of 
ng,  can  lose  nothing, 
d  replied,  "  Send  the 
ttage,  and  thin  if  yo'U 
lite  and  scare  me,  I'll 
ime  to  us." 

I  ho  continued,  "  I  had 
lie  bid  me  get  the  tin 
r  she'd  walk  into  the 
te  bravo  at  first,  and  I 
ired  her  friend  to  woo 
d  her  with  the  magis- 
lud  didn't  she  up  and 


THE  ENEMY  AGAIN. 


285 


bate  the  cars  near  ofif  my  face  because  I'd  not 
git  her  the  tin  pounds  to  spend  at  the  fair  ? 
Ycrsclf  knows,  misthrcss  dear,  tlicre's  not  a 
live  man  as  has  more  respect  for  woman  nor 
niysilf;  that  is  whin  she  kapes  in  her  own 
sphare ;  but  when  she  laves  spinnin'  and 
mllkin',  and  goes  aboot  chastisin'  noble  men 
as  was  made  to  be  the  head  and  ruler  o'  her, 
then  I'm  more  afearcd  o'  her,  than  o'  .the  vory 
ghosts  thimselvcs !  I'll  not  go  out  o'  doors  for 
a  year,  lest  the  boys  taunts  mo  with  this  blow  I 
got  from  a  woman.  'Dade,  my  head  tings  now 
like  the  church  bolls  Avith  the  weight  o'  her 
hand  ;  "  and  Paddy  wept  afresh  at  the  thought 
of  his  humiliation. 

"  Quit  yer  cryin',  poor  lad,  and  never  tell  a 
mortal  that  yo  saw  her  at  all,"  said  Peggy. 
"  I'm  not  afearcd  o'  the  poor  thing ;  I  could 
minister  to  her  war  she  sick,  or  an  hungered, 
or  athirst,  or  aven  in  prison." 

"  Ah,  so  could  I,"  cried  Paddy,  smiling 
through  his  tears,  "  if  I  could  but  once  see 
her  in  prison,  —  that's  the  place  for  her  !  " 

"  God,"  said  Peggy,  "  is  stronger  nor  all  tho 


f 


988 


GEMS  OF  THE  BOG. 


powers  o'  evil,  and  we're  safe  under  His  wing. 
Now  mind,  poor  faitliful  crelur,  ye'rc  not  to 
broatlie  yon  poor  tiling  s  name  to  any  mortal, 
especial  not  to  yar  dear  mastlicr,  to  bring 
back  the  sorrows  o'  tlic  past.  Slie'll  be  off 
with  her  friends  when  the  fair  and  the  races 
is  over,  and  we'll  still  'bide  hero  together  in 
the  pace  o'  God." 


vsm 


BOG. 

fe  under  His  wing, 
relur,  ye'rc  not  to 
me  to  any  mortal, 
masthcr,  to  bring 
ast.  Slic'll  bo  otr 
fair  and  the  races 
le  hero  together  in 


CHAPTER  XXV. 


A   CONSECBATED    LIFE. 


THE  young  man,  whoso  visits  had  been  so 
greatly  blessed  to  John  Shoehan,  had  been 
abroad  about  three  or  four  years  for  study  and 
travel.  He  had  now  returned,  and  taken  a  place 
in  tno  counting-room  of  his  father's  extensive 
"  works,"  believing  that  he  was  called  to  honor 
God  in  the  busy  mart  of  trade.  Tliis  decision 
caused  great  disappointment  to  his  father, 
who  had  hoped  to  see  his  only  and  gifted  son 
shine  in  public  life,  either  in  a  profession  or  as 
astafcsman.  He  now  resolved  that  he  should 
at  least  become  a  star  in  the  fashionable 
world,  and  saw  no  reason,  except  the  fanaticism 
whicli  had  taken  possession  of  him  in  college, 
why  he  should  not  marry  a  title.  Ho  knew 
that  his    money  would  be  as   highly  prized 

S87 


■■■^•SF- 


288  OEMS  OF  THE  BOO. 

among  the   pooruobiUtyas  a  name  would  bo 

be  by  bim,  a  ricb  com  noucr. 

Witb  tbi.  fiuc  fancy  in   bis  brain,  tbo  man 
of  .old  did  not  cboosc  to  sec  bis  bcir  seated  on 
a  bigb  stool,   scratching  in  a  ledger.     So  bo 
bougM  bim  ftnc  borsc,  a  startling  brougbam, 
and  otbervebicles,  and  gave  bim  means  to  keep 

up  tbe  style  requisite   to   carry   out  Ins  pku 

'"bTius  son's  heart  was  on  other  things,  and 
the  young  daughters  of  dukes  and  carls  passed 

by  bim,  as  little  regarded   as  the  down  of  tbo 

thistle.    Ho  envied  the  coronet  of  an  ea.^  no 

,^oro  than  tbo  cockade  of  a  coachman,  and  al 
tboeffortsofhisfatbcrand  sisters  to  "rouse 

his  ambition"  were  in  vain. 

One  morning  as  he  sat  in   tbo  library  alone, 

his  father  entered,  with  a  cloud  on  his  brow. 
«  Come,  my  boy,"  he  said,  in  a  tone  wlucl 

betokened  pain  rather  tbau  anger,  "WO   mus 
talk  over  this  matter  of  your  future  a  Uttlo.    1 
need  not  tell  you  that  I  am  sorely  disappomted 
iu  the  sou  of  my  pride.    I  roared  you  for  a 


Boa. 

i  a  namo  would  bo 

ir. 

his  brain,  tbo  man 
;c  bis  bcir  seated  on 
in  a  ledger.     So  bo 

startling  brougbam, 
ire  biin  means  to  keep 

carry  out  bis  plan 

on  otbcr  tbings,  and 
likes  and  carls  passed 

as  tbo  down  of  tbo 
•oronct  of  an  earl  no 

a  coacbman,  and  all 
aid  sisters  to  "  rouse 

in. 
in   tbo  library  alono, 

I  cloud  on  bis  brow, 
said,  in  a  tone  wliicb 
ban  anger,  "  wo  must 
your  future  a  littb.  I 
am  sorely  disappointed 
I  roared  you  for  a 


A   CONSECRATED  LIFE. 


289 


gentloinan,  but  I'm  told  you  have  turned  out 
ahnost  a  Mulliodist,  forsaking  the  society  whicb 
you  are  filled  to  adorn,  and  choosing  your  as- 
sociales  among  tlic  employes  of  tbo  bouse, — 
even  llio  diaymen,  —  and  making  yourself 
'  hale  fellow  well  met '  with  old  Sliannon,  and 
Cragin,  the  cooper.  Whence  did  you  inberit 
such  tastes,  my  boy  ?  " 

A  deep  color  rose  to  tbo  cbeek  of  tbe  young 
man,  as  he  replied,  '*  I  bope,  my  dear  fatber,  I 
shall  never  do  any  tbing  to  disgrace  you,  or  to 
sliow  myself  ungrateful  for  all  yonr  indulgence. 
I>ut  tliorc  is  One  wbo  lias  a  .till  higher  claim 
on  mo  tban  you  have ;  and  to  Ilim  I  mado 
vows,  as  solemn  as  eternity,  in  an  hour  of  deep 
anguish.  I  was  on  the  brink  of  ruin,  and  bad 
ahnost  ijrought  disgrace  on  you,  when  God  laid 
I  His  hand  on  me,  stayed  mo  in  my  mad  career, 
and  hrougbt  me  to  my  rigbt  mind.  Those  vows 
I  must  fulfill,  botli  from  honesty  and  from  a 
llove  which  draws  mo  in  tbo  way  of  Uis  com- 
|mandmcnts.  I  implore  you  not  to  tempt  mo 
Voni  Ciwist  by  suggesting  tbat  I  am  cold  and 
jugrateful   to  you.     I  enjoy   tbo   comforts  of 

l» 


«mxsK^:nfP!' 


r 


290 


GEifS  OF  TUB  BOO. 


wealth  as  much  aa  any  young  man  can  do,  but 
were  the  choice  force.l  upon  me,  I  would  rather 
be  a  beggar  followu.g  Clirist,  than  a  priuco 
with  my  back  turned  upon  Ilim." 

"  Your  sisters  can  never  induce  you  to  ac- 
company them  to  rout  or  play  ;  but  you  have 
plenty  of  time  to  bestosv  on  people  wh.o  have 
uo  claim  on  you,"  said  the  father,  severely. 

« Every  body   has  a  claim  on  mo,  father," 
replied  the  young  man,"  and  when  those  I  lovo 
ot,  home  will  not  listen  to  me,  I  must  seek  out 
those  who  will.  Our  family  friends  would  sconi 
mo  and  perhaps  refuse  my  visits  were  I  to  re- 
mind them  that  they  were  mortal   and  needed 
an  Immortal  Friend.     But   our  draymen  and 
coopers  listen   respectfully   when   I   -peak    to 
them  of  their  souls,  and  they  read  what  I  give 
them,  and  go  whore  I  request  them,  to  hear  the 
'  Word  of  God  preached." 

«  You  never  caught  this  spirit  of  fanatici^n 
from  my  friend  Murray  ;  for  although  ho  was 
a  church-menfber  when  wo  were  young  to- 
gether, ho  always  remembered  that  ho  wai^  a 
gentleman,"  said  the  old  irau. 


mmmmm 


oa. 

man  can  do,  but 
,c,  I  would  rather 
;,  tViaii  a  prince 
in." 

idiicc   you  to   ac- 
y  ;  but   you    bavo 
people  wl'.o  have 
thcr,  severely. 
n  on  mo,  father," 
when  those  I  love 
s,  I  must  seek  out 
•lends  would  sconi 
isits  were  I  to  rc- 
lortal   and  needed 
our  draymen  and 
when   I   r;poak    to 
3y  read  what  I  give 
X  thcra,  to  hear  the 

spirit  of  fanaticism 
ir  although  ho  was 
JO  were  young  to- 
i-od  that  ho  wac>  a 
an. 


A    CONSEC'ItATED  LIFE. 


291 


"  1  hope  I  shall  remember  that  too,  father," 
replied  tiic  son. 

"  You  did  not  see  Murray  waylaying  work- 
men, and  rniining  to  night  services  when  you 
were  with  lum,  I'm  very  sure  ? "  asked  the 
father. 

"  lie  did  what  he  could  in  that  way,  but  the 
lower  classes  about  him  are  all  Papists,  and 
tlif^y  shun  him  as  if  he  were  a  foe." 

The  father  remained  silent  a  moment,  and 
then,  as  if  a  bright  though*^^  had  just  struck 
him,  ho  said,  "  Well,  if  this  course  appears  in 
the  light  of  a  duty  to  you,  why  not  take  orders  ? 
A  clergyman  stands  in  the  foremost  rank  of 
society,  even  though  ho  be  as  poor  as  tho  mouse 
in  his  church,  and  with  your  wealth  you  would 
doubtless  get  speedy  preferment.  Your  sisters 
accuse  you  of  "  preaching "  now ;  why  not 
make  that  your  profession  and  take  some  prom- 
inent living?" 

"  Father,  should  I  do  this,  it  would  not  bo  in 
the  church  of  your  choice,  nor  yet  among  peo- 
ple who  have  rich  livings  to  bestow.  But  aside 
from  this,  I  feel  that  my  duty  calls  me  to  a 


f 


-i- 


r 


292 


OEMS  OF  THE  BOG. 


business  life.     I  have  never  had  a  call   to  tlio 

ministry." 

"  A  call  to  the  ministry  !  "  rc-cchocd  the  oM 
man,  who  had  probal:ly  never  heard  the  expres- 
sion before,  "  what  have  you  '  had  a  call  to,' 
pray  tell  me  ?  " 

"  To  make  money,  and  with  it,  as  well  as 
with  all  my  powers,  to  glorify  God  Avhilo  I 
live,"  replied  the  young  man,  solemnly.  "  Do 
not  tempt  me  to  play  traitor  to  the  King  I  have 
chosen  to  rule  over  mo." 

"  I  will  do  nothing  to  vex  you,  my  son,"  re- 
plied the  old  man,  "  even  if  my  heart  and  my 
hopes  are  all  crushed.     You  are  a  man,  and 
must  -,hoosc    your   own   road   in   life.      God 
bless  you,   my  boy,  whatever   way   you   go." 
And  taking  out  a  large  gold  watch  with  much 
jingling   of  chain   and   seals,  ho  wiped  tears 
from  his  eyes  before  he  could  see  the  hour  on 
the  fair  dial  plate.     Then  he  took  his  hat  and 
went  out  to  make  his  usual   morning  round 
among  the  works;  not  to  sec  what  was  doing, 
as  there  were  men  paid  for  that  purpose,  but  to 
inspire  the  workmen  with  an  awe  of  his  dig- 


,...«;*---ivr.-.  -■..««»'-iO!*W-r,f«ttsflM 


iOO. 

lad  a  cnll   to  tho 

re-ccliocd  the  old 

heard  the  cxprcs- 

a  '  had  a  call  to,' 

ith  it,  as  well  as 
rify  God  Avhilo  I 
1,  solemnly.  "  Do 
to  the  King  I  have 

you,  my  son,"  rc- 
my  heart  and  my 
u  arc  a  man,  and 
ad  in  life.  God 
'cr  way  you  go." 
[  watch  with  much 
Is,  he  wiped  tears 
d  see  tho  hour  on 
(  took  his  hat  and 
al  morning  round 
ce  what  was  doing, 
;hat  purpose,  but  to 
m  awe  of  his  dig- 


A   CONSECRATED  LIFE. 


203 


nity  ;  and  also  to  encourage  each  of  them  by 
his  bland  smile  and  his  cheerful  "  Good-moru- 
uig,  my  man  !  " 

When  the  letters  by  the  morning's  mail 
wore  laid  by  a  clerk  on  the  desk  before  tho 
young  man,  his  eye  brightened  at  sight  (  one 
in  Mr.  Murray's  well-known  hand.  The  very 
address  gave  comfort  to  his  tried  spirit  by  an 
assurance  that  one  still  lived  who  could  enter 
into  and  sympathize  in  his  trials.  He  tore  it 
open  as  if  he  knew  it  held  tho  balm  lie  needed 
al  that  moment,  and  read  therein  good  news : 

"  My  Very  Dear  Young  Friend,  —  When  I 
siiw  your  name  among  the  passengers  in  tho 
'Iris'  I  first  thanked  God  for  your  safety, 
and  then  took  my  pen  to  welcome  you  home, 
and  to  tell  you  the  '  good  news  from  a  far 
country,'  which  I  fear  missed  you  in  your 
wanderings.  You  remember  I  told  you  I 
should  call  Killyrooke  your  parish,  and  that 
1  would  be  your  assistant  there.  I  blush  when 
I  remember  that  I  strove  to  discourage  you 
in  your  efforts  for  poor,  fallen  Sheehan.  God 
blessed   your  work.     He  was   saved,  and   tho 


1 


'■'■!»ii?Ja^i>MJ.-'.»«»'R»«'-yareaa«v,t»iati!»'*'«'4Jitivvir'' 


294 


GEMS  OF  THE  BOO. 


desolate   arc   brought  togcthcv  into   a  happy 
and  godly  family. 

"  Your  success  in  gaining  tlic  cars  of  tlicso 
poor  people  has  convinced  mc  of  the  utility 
of  lay  preaching.     You,  with   your  blue  coat 
and  white  hat,  were  welcomed  where  I  would 
have   been    stoned.     You  were  listened   to  as 
a  young  gcnlleman,  while  God's  more  public 
servant  was  looked  on  as  a  wily  heretic  secli- 
ing  to  delude  their  souls.     You  did  more  for 
poor  blind  Killyrooke  the  two  weeks  you  were 
with  us  than  I  have  been  able  to  do  in  all  the 
years  I  have  labored  at  Cloynmally.     I  have 
already  reaped  the  first  fruits  of  your  labors 
there.     I  have  received  into  my  church,  and 
administered    the    Sacrament  of    the    Lord's 
Supper  to,  old  Monica  Burke,  long  a  roadside 
beggar  of  little  fame  for  honesty  ;  to  the  former 
bar-maid  of  the  poor  little  inn;  and  to  the  wife 
of  Sullivan  the  poacher,  —  tho  woman  whose 
heart  and  arms  ached  from  emptiness  after  the 
dead  baby.     There  was  great  joy  ia  the  church 
over  theso  poor  souls. 


<'  Yv^hen  John  Shoehan,  '  your  joy  aud  your 


Boa. 

icv  into   a  happy 

tlic  cars  of  tlicso 
mc  of  the  utility 
th   your  bluo  coat 
cd  where  I  would 
ere  listened   to  as 
jod's  more  public 
wily  heretic  scck- 
You  did  more  for 
vo  weeks  you  were 
le  to  do  iu  all  the 
oyninally.     I  have 
lits  of  your  labors 
;o  my  church,  and 
int  of    the    Lord's 
ke,  long  a  roadside 
esty  ;  to  the  former 
nil ;  and  to  the  wife 
-  tho  woman  whose 
emptiness  after  the 
it  joy  ia  the  church 

'  your  joy  aud  your 


A   CONSECR.iTKD  LIFE. 


295 


crown,'  brought  back  his  wife  to  the  cottage, 
it  was  as  if  he  had  introduced  an   angol  into 
tlic  poor  hamlet.     She  had  gained   much  ir- 
formation,  and   had   also  overcome,  to  a  sur- 
prising  degree,   her   natural    shyncsa  by   her 
intci-course  with  Miss  Grey  and  her  poor  Chris- 
tian pensioners.     She  at  once  set  out  to  read 
tlic  Gospel  to  her  neighbors.     But  thoj^   wero 
soon  forbidden  to  hear  the   Bible  read.     She 
then,    with     strange    wisdom,    selected    such 
hymns  and  psalms  as  form  a  body  of  divinity 
ill  themselves  ;  and  by  coaxing,  and  sometimes 
hiring,  she  fills  her  little  room  every  evening 
with  poor  lost  sinners,  and  to  them  she  sings 
the   Gospel.    They   learn   the   tunes  and   Jio 
words,  and  carry  ihcra  home  and  sing  them  at 
their  toil ;  and  thus  your  work   is  going  on 

here. 

"  The  ungodly  sec  little  cause  for  our  rejoic- 
ing over  these  few  poor  wanderers  gathered 
into  the  fold,  thinking  them  small  gain  to  any 
church.  But  you  and  I,  who  know  the  esti- 
mate Jesus  puts  on  one  immortal  soul,  know 
there  is  joy  in  heaven  over  them.     Tho  poor 


■<»^jM»al^JfU■^l!.^g^^.^^<■^ti,^!■^s,:'-^',,T'l.^.^^;|,'■JlMi!^V5..f,. 


■s^rsfw* 


206 


GEifS  OF  THE  BOG. 


heart-broken  lady  at  the  Hall  is  in  sore  need 
of  the  synipatliy  of  Jesus,  and  is,  I  hear,  fully 
convinced  of  the  vanity  of  her  penances  and 
of  the  mass.  But  alas  !  she  could  never  Htoop 
80  low  as  to  hear  the  Gosncl  sung  in  a 
thatched  cottage,  and  she  dare  not  hear  it 
preached  in  a  Protestant  church.  'Position' 
keeps  licr  in  darkness,  while  these  poor  wo- 
men walk  in  the  light.  That  little  hamlet 
will  be  depopulated  ere  long.  Tlie  gentleman 
at  the  Hall,  sorely  embarrassed  by  high  living, 
has  let  the  cottages  of  the  tenantry,  as  well  as 
his  own  grounds,  run  to  ruin;  so  the  poor 
people  are  emigrating  to  America  as  fast  as 
they  can  get  money  for  tlio  passage.  The  seed 
which  Peggy  is  casting  forth  in  lovo  and  faith 
will  thus  be  scattered,  and  bring  in  a  harvest 
in  the  New  World. 

'"  I  have  often  been  perplexed  to  know  how 
to  regulate  the  matter  of  amusements  for 
young  Christians,  so  that  it  might  not  clash 
with  the  injunction,  '  Whatsoever  ye  do,  do 
all  to  the  glory  of  God.'  Your  course  has 
settled  the  question.     It  is  '  for  the  glory  of 


f^:S«^.«Pt««MMEi^^^r»&1WJBMaJIHASW^il  .WW*J««?BS!K«,*ePMKWtSB59»e?r?  ■ 


too. 

is  ill  soro  need 
1  is,  I  hoar,  fully 
cr  penances  and 
ould  never  Htoop 
)spcl  sung  ill  a 
larc  not  lieur  it 
ircb.  'Position' 
c  these  poor  \vo- 
lat  little  hamlet 
Tiie  gciitleinaii 
d  by  high  living, 
laiitry,  as  well  as 
in;  so  the  poor 
nerica  as  fast  as 
ssagc.  The  seed 
u  lovo  and  faith 
•ing  in  a  harvest 

;ed  to  know  how 
aniusemcnts  for 
might  not  clash 
oever  ye  do,  do 
four  course  has 
for  the  glory  of 


A  CONSECnATED  LIFE. 


297 


God  '  that  you  keep  the  delicate  frame  Ho  has 
given  you  in  health  and  vigor  hy  manly  exer- 
cise. As  your  calling  has  not  led  you  to  find 
this  in  labor,  you  have  sought  it  in  athletic 
games.  Now  that  all  your  powers  are  conse- 
crated to  God,  your  skill  at  those  games  is 
turned  to  account  for  His  glory.  Through 
quoits  and  ball  you  gained  the  cars  and  tho 
hearts  of  those  poor  fellows  at  tho  lough. 
Hereafter,  when  any  one  asks  me,  '  How  far 
may  a  Christian  enter  into  worldly  pleasures  ?  ' 
I  will  say, '  Just  as  far  as  he  is  sure  he  is  thus 
promoting  the  glory  of  God.  When  con- 
science tolls  him  that  ho  can  honor  Christ  by 
going  to  the  play  or  the  dance,  let  him  go 
there.  Otherwise  he  will  by  going  get  harm 
to  his  own  soul  and  stumble  the  souls  of 
others  ? '  Your  skill  at  games  gave  you  an 
influence  over  those  people,  and  enabled  you 
to  talk  to  them  of  heavenly  things.  That  in- 
fluence has  extended  to  me,  so  that  I  can  now 
drop  a  word  when  I  meet  them,  without  fear  of 
abuse.  I  believe  those  '  boys '  with  whom  you 
met  would  read  any  book  you  should  send 


Tsasm;ffiecM!>3S^tje2-s;^K»n*rf? 


298 


OEMS  OF  THE  BOO. 


them  — if  fortunate  enough  to  read  at  all. 
Come  back  at  your  first  leisure,  and  visit  your 
huml)lc  little  parish  before  it  molts  away,  and 
I  will  show  you  a  wonderful  change  in  the 
home  of  poor  humble  Sliechan.  That  foolish 
fellow,  Paddy,  says  he  is  a  Protestant  now, 
and  ho  attends  service  regularly  with  his 
master.  Tlie  account  he  himself  gives  of  the 
cluinge  is,  that  when  he  was  homesick  after 
his  mistress,  he  vowed  that  if  ever  she  camo 
back  to  iiim  lie  would  toss  up  a  penny  to 
decide  the  matter  of  his  religion.  He  did 
80  just  before  she  came.  Tlio  result  turned 
him  from  the  faith  of  his  fathers!  Do  you 
not  think  that  many  wiser  men  than  poor 
Paddy  stake  their  religious  principles  on 
ground  as  small  as  that  ? 

If,  in  your  labors  in  the  city,  you  meet  with 
those  who  dare  not  .cad  or  hear  the  Bible, 
sing  the  Gospel  to  them.  Would  it  not  be 
well  for  us  to  avail  ourselves  of  poor  Peggy's 
invention,  and  through  music  to  draw  the  poor 
end  the  needy  where  they  can  hoar  tho  swoet 
Bound  of  tho  Gospel  ? " 


Boa. 


A  CONSECRATED  LIFE. 


299 


I  to  read  at  all. 
re,  and  visit  your 
t  inclts  away,  and 
ful  change  in  tho 
lan.  That  foolish 
J  Protestant  now, 
cgularly  with  his 
imself  gives  of  tho 
as  homesick  after 

if  ever  she  camo 
is   up   a  penny  to 

religion.  He  did 
Tho  result  turned 

fathers!  Do  you 
ir  men  than  poor 
)U8    principles    on 

ity,  you  meet  with 
or  hear  tho  Bible, 
WouM  it  not  be 
38  of  poor  Peggy's 
ic  to  draw  the  poor 
an  hoar  tho  sweet 


Ten  days  after  this  letter  was  received  by 
the  joung  man,  the  family  at  the  cottage  were 
surprised  by  tho  arrival  of  a  box  full  of  books 
and  colored  cards  from  Mr.  Murray's  friend. 
Tliesc  were  to  be  scattered  by  Peggy  among 
—  so  he  wrote  —  "  my  friends  in  Killyrooko." 
Many  of  the  young  men,  proud  of  the  honor, 
vished  to  know  what  the  books  contained, 
but  not  being  able  to  read,  were  forced  to  go 
to  IVggy  and  John,  who  held  themselves 
ready  lor  the  work.  Both  Bessie  and  Marion 
were  brought  into  the  service,  and  there  was 
more  reading  in  Killyrooko  in  tho  next  ten 
days  than  there  had  ever  been  before  since 
the  first  poor  cottage  was  built  there. 


■.Jrt*^«iBV«Miil«*(«p»j<«i*Pte*; 


S-- 


pr~ 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

VISITS    PROM    FRIEND    AND   FOE. 

ONE  pleasant  aftornoou  iii  the  early  autiunn, 
as  Peggy  sat  at  her   wheel  by  the  open 
door  of  her  cottage,  she  was  surprised  by  tho 
arrival    of  guests    in    a    smart  juunting-car. 
They  were  no  other  than  Barney  and  his  wife, 
who  fjor  the  first  time  in  their  married  life  had 
set  out  on  an  excursion   of  pleasure.     There 
were  no  cold  rules  of  etiquette  to  bind  down 
the  warm-hearted  hostess ;  and,  forgetting  that 
she  had  never  seen  tho   wife  of  tho  "  dear 
wagoner,"  she  rushed  out  to  tho  gate  to  wel- 
come them. 

"  Ah,  good  woman,"  cried  tho  wagoner,  "  ye 
BOO  it's  true  that  '  birds  of  a  feather  flock  to- 
gether.' For  tho  last  while  Fvc  jist  been  long- 
ing to  have  a  word  with  ye,  and  to  thank  ye 
for  tho  throublo  yo  took  about  my  soul,  and  to 

300 


! 


,> 


VISITS  FROM  FRIEND  AND  FOE. 


301 


fD  FOE, 

!  early  autiunn, 
3I  by  the  open 
urprisei  by  the 
t  jaunting-car, 
?y  and  his  wife, 
narricJ  life  had 
loasure.     There 
3  to  bind  down 
,  forgetting  that 
of  the  "  dear 
tlie  gate  to  wel- 

le  wagoner,  "  ye 
featlior  flock  to- 
0  jist  boon  long- 
and  to  thank  ye 
my  soul,  and  to 

300 


tell  yo  that  I'm  jist  one  o'  ycrsilvos  now ! 
And  liore's  my  poor  Mully,  a  thankful  crotur 
iis  lives,  and  as  lovin'  a  one  too.  She's  never 
asked  high  things  o'  tiie  Lord  in  this  world, 
but  what  she  has  asked  He's  bestowed  on  hor 
and  on  mo ;  and  we're  come  to  bid  ye  re- 
joice witli  us  that  we,  poor  lost  sheep,  is 
brought  into  tlic  dear  fold." 

Peggy  folded  the  wagoner's  wife  in  her 
arras  and  imprinted  a  motherly  kisa  on  her 
pale  chock,  but,  without  speaking  to  her,  con- 
tinued her  conversation  with  Barney  as  ho 
hitched  his  horse  to  the  donkey-post.  "  And 
how  do  ye  feel  towards  the  Papists  now  ?  "  she 
asked,  as  if  trying  the  genuineness  of  his  re- 
pentance. 

"  I  loves  ivory  one  0'  them,  from  the  Pope 
hisself  down  to  the  mancst  o'  my  inimies  at 
homo !  Fd  travel  from  hero  to  Limerick  on 
my  knees,  if  by  so  doin'  I  could  open  one 
pair  o'  blind  eyes  to  see  tho  marcy  I've  seen 
in  tho  sinners'  Friend,"  lie  replied. 

As  thoy  entered  tlie  cottage,  Paddy,  who 
bad  been  drawn  from  tho  garden  by  their  joy- 


809 


OEMfi  OF   THE  liOG. 


fill  voices,  joined  thoin,  ami  taking  off  his  hat 
mado  a  low  bow,  ami  .-^aid,  "  I'm  at  yor  sar- 
vico,  and  ycr  harso's  sai-vicc,  too,  good  wa<,'- 
oncr.  But  afore  yo  cuter,  will  ye  let  ino  have 
a  word  o'  ye  ?  " 

Tho  wagoner  stepped  haclc  and  inelincd  hia 
head  towards  Paddy  in   the  attitude  of  a  lis- 
tener.    But  Paddy  was  a  man  of  deeds  as  well 
as  of  words  ;  and  he  suri)rised  the  strar.gcr  by 
stooping  down  and  catching  up  one  of  his  feet 
in  his  hand.     Then  falling  on   his  knees,  ho 
put  his  head  down  so  low  that  he  could  exam- 
ine the  sole  of  his  brogue.     "  1  only  wanted  to 
see,""  ho  said,  with  a  confidential  wink  of  his 
little   gray  eye,   "  if  yo   had  hobnails  in   yer 
shoes ;  because  if  ye  had,  Pd  bo  to  pound  them 
down  afore  I  let  ye  into  our  cottage.    We've 
grown  very  fine  since  first  ye  saw  us,  and  we 
has  a  carpet  on  our  floe-,  and  carpets  is  not 
for  men  as  wears  hobnails  in   their  soles,  yo 
know.     Te're  all  rijlit ;   so    walk   in,  and   a 
wilcome  to  yo  !     Yis,  yis  ;  it's  fine  indeed  that 
wo   are  now— atin'    with  our   tables  covered 
with  white  cloth,  'stead  o'  bare.     There's  not 


r'!??^>■•!r^1rW^"X  -.«!  ■»■«.: «tr---aa««>«««!9«iw»- 


»d  inclined  \m 
titudc  of  a  lis- 
f  docds  as  woll 
tlio  stranger  by 
one  of  Ilia  feet 

his  knees,  ho 
!ic  could  exam- 
only  wanted  to 
;ial  wink  of  his 
lobnails  in   yer 

to  poimd  tliom 
ottago.  Wo'vo 
saw  us,  and  wo 

carpets  is  not 

their  soles,  ye 
mlk  in,  and  a 
Pino  indeed  that 

tables  covered 
B.     Thoro's  not 


II  f  »l!.»l|IHinL<!.JI" 


? 


VISITS  FROM  FRIEND  AND  FOE. 


303 


a  one  like  us  but  only  the  minister  and  the 
priest  in  all  tliese  parts.  But  for  all  tliis,  wo 
kapos  quite  liumble,  and  treats  daeent  poor 
people  with  duo  civility;  so  don't  be  afoarcd, 
but  wipe  yer  feet  well  and  tliin  just  step  on 
the  carpet  as  if  it  were  no  better  nor  a  clay 
floor.  Isn't  it  a  fine  thing  to  be  kept  tliis 
humble  when  we're  grown  such  grand  folk  ?  " 

And  for  two  days  these  humble  souls,  witli  a 
few  Christian  friends  who  joined  them  from 
the  little  band  in  Cloynmally,  "  did  cat  their 
meat  with  gladness  and  singleness  of  heart, 
praising  God,  and  having  favor  with  all  the 
people." 

The  girls  wore  now  so  large  and  so  capable, 
that  they  relieved  Peggy  of  nearly  all  the  care 
and  work,  both  in  the  cottage  and  in  the  poul- 
try-yard. What  they  could  not  accoraplisli 
Paddy  did,  so  ho  felt  groat  pride  in  boasting 
that  "  his  darlin'  misthress  didn't  have  to  lift 
her  finger  oidy  to  plaze  herself."  But  with 
all  this  freedom  from  toil,  Peggy  was  not  tho 
woman  to  sit  down  in  idleness.  Tho  love  in 
her  heart  always  supplied  work  for  her  hands. 


i 


4. 


304 


OEyfS  OF  THE  300. 


Late  one  suinincr  aftcfuooii,  Bessie  and 
Marion  were  sent  off  to  search  for  tlie  duclcs, 
wliicli  liud,  of  late,  fallen  into  roving  iiabits, 
often  leaving  "  the  fine  aceominodations " 
Paddy  had  provided  for  them,  and  seeking 
company  at  a  large  pond  half  a  mile  from 
home. 

As  the  girls  tnrnod  into  a  qniet  la:io  loading 
to  this  duck-pond,  they  saw  two  women  sitting 
on  the  grass  enjoying  their  supper ;  and  yet 
they  were  too  well  dressed  for  beggars.  They 
talked  and  laughed  very  loudly,  and  as  the 
girls  approached,  one  called  out,  "  Arn't  ye 
Shcchan's  girls  ?  " 

Be°-sie  modestly  replied,  and  then  expressed 
her  opinion  to  Marion  of  the  way  in  which  the 
stranger  spoke  of  their  father.  "  Siie  might 
at  least  have  called  him  '  John  Slieehan,'  she 
said." 

"  Come  back  hero  and  tell  us  about  yon 
Miss  Grey.  Do  she  sind  ye  money  by  the 
liape,  or  do  the  old  fellow  fade  and  clothe  yo 
hissclf?  "  cried  one  of  the  women. 

The  childrou  were  startled  by  this  rudeness, 


'^■'WmXal&MMX'  ' 


oa. 

)oii,  Besslo  and 
cli  for  tlie  ducks, 
to  roving  liabits, 
scominodations  " 
m,  and  seeking 
alf  a   mile  from 

;iict  laiio  Iciding 
fo  women  sitting 
supper ;  and  yot 
•  beggars,  Tlicy 
idly,  and  as  tho 
out,  "  Arn't  ye 

I  then  expressed 
way  in  which  tho 
r.  "  Slie  might 
in  Sliechan,'  she 

U   us  about  yon 

3   money   by  tho 

idc  and  clothe  yo 

nen. 

by  this  rudeness, 


VISITS  FROM  FRIEND  AND  FOE.  305 

and  replied,  "  We're  in  haste,  as  we're  bid  to 
be  back  to  our  supper." 

"Ocli  ye  arc!  Well,  thin,  pass  on,  fine 
liulies,"  cried  the  woman.  "I  suppose  that 
great  lady,  Peggy  Sheehan,  forbid  ye  to  snake 
to  j)oor  folk." 

"Ecssic  dear,"  said  Marion,  "I've  talked 
twice  with  yon  woman  on  tho  road.  One  day, 
you  mind,  I  told  ye  she  said  she  know  my  own 
niotlicr,  and  that  Miss  Gre;^  bid  her  come  to 

see  ns." 

"  She  was  jesting  with  you,  dear,"  replied 
Bessie,    "but    may    be    she's  the   body   that 

mammy's  so  ill  pleased  to  hear  mentioned 

for  what  reason  I  don't  know.  Perhaps  she's 
the  one  that  gave  you  the  locket  long  ago,  that 
mammy  l)id  ye  never  speak  to,  but  run  from. 
A  rough  body  surely  she  is,  and  very  unlike 
om-  mammy." 

And  chatting  together,  they  reached  the 
pond,  and  saw  their  ducks,  with  a  largo  party 
of  friends,  on  the  other  side.  It  was  a  lonj^ 
way  round,  but  they  were  forced  to  go  on  or 
return  without  them.     The  shadows  were  fal- 

20 


S06 


OEMS  OF   THE  BOO. 


ling,  and  tlioy  begun  to  feel  alittlo  timid,  wlien, 
to  their  great  joy,  tliey  saw  Timmy,  the  son  of 
Elder  Peter,  coming  towards   tlicm.     lie   liad 
been  a  most  tender  and  affectionate  playmate 
of  Bessie  for  years.     It  seems  that  Timmy, 
now  tnrncd   of  seventeen,  did   not  partake  of 
his  father's   stony  nature,  but  gave   the   elder 
great  annoyance  by  spending  his  pocket  money 
and  his   time   for  the   girls.     The   elder  had 
long  a<ro  declared  that  he'd  have  "  no  stuff" 
about  him,  and  that  he  would  chastise  Timmy 
next  time  lie  saw  him  befooling  himself.  "  How 
can  I  tell,"  ho  said,  "  but  if  the  lad's  left  to 
himself,  he  may  turn  out  a  gallant,  or  a  lover, 
or  such-like  wake  crelur'  ?     He  must  sure  have 
got  this  wakeness   from   some   far-back   body 
among    his  ancestors;    for  his    father   never 
looked  at  a  maiden  till  he  had  a  cottage  to  bo 
kept  clanc  and  no  one  in  it  to  cook  him  a  di..- 
nor.    And  here's  him  makin'  a  fool  o'  himself 
from  the  cradle  up !    Amaziu'  wakeness  for  the 
eon  o'  an  elder !  " 

After  a  few  rebukes  and  many  threats,  Elder 
Peter  at  length  devised  a  plan  to  mortify  the 


■  ?i<i«*.>5il*s5W«g3};-  - 


00. 


VISITS  FROM  FlilEND  AyD  FOE. 


307 


ittlo  timid,  wlicn, 
umy,  the  son  of 

them.  lie  had 
tioiiate  j)laymato 
US  that  Timmy, 
,  not  partake  of 
t  gave  the  elJcr 
liis  pocket  money 
The  elder  had 
have  "  no  stuff" 

chastise  Timmy 
12  himself.  "  How 
■  tlie  lad's  left  to 
llant,  or  a  lover, 
Ig  must  sure  have 
ae  far-back  body 
his  father  never 
ad  a  cottage  to  bo 
;o  cook  him  a  di..- 
i'  a  fool  o'  himself 
i'  wakeness  for  the 

lany  threats,  lildcr 
lau  to  mortify  the 


lud  ill  a  manner  tliat  should  tcacli  him  a  lesson. 
So  lie  took  him  out  of  tlie  "  classical  school 
of  Maurice  Dolaii,"  and  put  him  into  tlic  girls' 
scliool  taught  by  his  own  sister,  willi  a  cliaigo 
to  her  "  to  set  liim  in  between  two  little  maids 
wlienever  he  needed  punishment." 

Strange  to  say,  Elder  Peter's  medicine  was 
too  mild  for  the  disease.  Timmy  was  now  in 
liis  clement,  wedged  in  between  his  admired 
Bessie  Sheehan  and  anotlier  pleasant  child  not 
Ro  old.  If  his  fatlier  liad  found  it  hard  to 
keep  liis  finger  on  Timmy  out  of  school  hours 
before,  he  found  it  still  harder  now.  IIo 
walked  from  Cloyiimally  almost  to  Killyrooko, 
cither  "  after  flowers,  or  four-leafed  shamrocks, 
or  something  else,"  every  night,  till  the  elder 
took  him  out  of  the  girls'  school  and  sc'it 
liiin  back  to  Maurice  Dolan,  with  orders  to 
have  the  rod  laid  on  if  necessary.  But  Maurice 
was  young  himself,  and  he  saw  no  great  crime 
in  plucking  flowers  and  hunting  four-leaved 
sliamrocks  with  schoolmates  or  friends.  So 
Timmy  escaped  [lunishment  altogether. 

Hard  as  Elder  Peter's  nature  was,  he  had  a 


\.  ji  .tF2«a:t-'»tf«wp*«i» 


^«.,^.^t ^ 


808 


GEMS  OF  THE  BOO. 


very  tender  spot  in  his  licart  for  Timmy  —  Ills 
one,  only  child.  Knowing  how  hard  his  own 
trado  was,  he  had  resolved  tliat  Tiinmy  should 
have  an  easier  one  —  perhaps  be  a  tailor. 
Against  this  decision  Tinimy  rebelled  most 
vigorously,  declaring  that  he  would  either  bo  a 
stone-cutter  or  a  farmer  in  America,  and  ho 
dutifully  suggested  that  if  his  plans  were  inter- 
fered with  he  would  run  off  and  go  to  sea.  And 
that  boy's  threat  from  time  immemorial,  had 
as  groat  an  effect  in  restraiiiing  Elder  Peter 
from  carrying  out  his  plans  as  if  it  had  never 
been  uttered  before. 

Marion,  who  preferred  the  ducks'  company 
to  Timmy's,  walked  on  ahead  scolding  them 
soundly  for  the  evil  ways  into  which  they  had 
fallen.  Thus  the  two  lingerers  had  a  rare  op- 
portunity to  make  complaints  and  to  reveal 
plans,  without  a  third  person  to  listen. 

Bessie  remembered  her  sad  early  life  among 
tlie  baby  boai'ders,  where  she  was  forbidden  to 
laugh  or  to  play,  and  perhaps  it  was  this  wliich 
had  given  a  tinge  of  sadness  to  her  disposi- 
tion.    It  certainly  was  not  that  she  felt  depres- 


too. 

for  Timmy  —  his 
\v  hard  liis  own 
at  Tiiniuy  should 
ips  be  a  tailor. 
ly  rebelled  most 
vould  either  bo  a 
America,  and  ho 
plans  were  inter- 
id  go  to  sea.  And 
immemorial,  had 
ning  Elder  Peter 
5   if  it  had  never 

ducks'  company 
id  scolding  them 
I  which  they  had 
rs  had  a  rare  op- 
ts and  to  reveal 
to  listen. 
1  early  life  among 

was  forbidden  to 
it  was  this  wliich 
is  to  her  disjiosi- 
at  she  felt  dopres- 


F/Wr.S'  FROil  fniEND  AXr>  FOE.  309 

8od  by  her  connoctioti  with  the  Slieehans ;  for 
so  closely  had  Pog<ry  guarded  the  children,  that 
tiicy  had  never  heard  a  breath  against  Joim's 
fair  fame.  Seeing  his  pure  daily  life  and  shar- 
ing liis  afTectionate  care,  thoy  looked  upon  him 
as  tlie  model  Christian,  and  the  most  respcct- 
al)Io  man  in  the  hamlet. 

"  Well,"  sighed  Bessie,  "  I'm  just  wild  about 
America.  Timmy,  and  I'll  not  rest  till  I  sec  it. 
Bell  Shannon  and  Maggie  McRea  are  going, 
and  they're  the  last  o'  the  young  folk  I'm  suf- 
fered to  consort  with,  and  I'll  be  just  miserable 
behind  tliem.  Why  can't  your  father  and  mine 
go,  as  well  as  other  fathers  ?  " 

"  I  suppose,"  answered  Timmy,  "  that  my 
father  thinks  folk  don't  die  fast  enough  for  his 
trade  in  a  country  whcro's  no  potatoe  rot  and 
no  starvation.  But  the  few  that  do  die  tliere 
lave  enough  behind  them  to  pay  for  head- 
stones, and  that's  what  few  does  here." 

"  Mammy  turns  pale  now,"  said  Bessie,  "  at 
tlie  word  «  America ; '  but  I  know  they'd  all  go 
if  I  set  my  will  on  goin,'  for  they'll  never  sep- 
arate from.me  —  the  lovin'  hearts?" 


m 


-f- 


I 


310 


GEilfi  OF  TIIK  BOG. 


"  If  yo  go,  I'll  follow,  tliougii  I  should  liave 
to  run  off,"  replied  Timmy. 

Bossio  smiled.  "  Tiiat's  an  old  threat  o' 
yours,  Timmy,  and  will  frighten  no  one  but 
your  father.  But  here's  the  turn  of  the  road 
for  you.  Now  go  your  way  home,  and  I'll  go 
mine.  I'll  not  let  you  walk  to  the  cottage,  as 
mammy  is  grieved  with  you,  saying  it's  you 
put  America  in  my  head.     Good-night." 

"  Good-night,  Bessie.  Keep  up  good  heart, 
and  who  can  say  but  we'll  hear  Elder  Peter 
and  John  Sheehan  singing  the  Psalms  o'  David 
to  '  Yankee  Doodle'  yet  ?  They  liave  only  tho 
cue  tune  in   that  country.     Good-night." 

When  Bessie  parted  from  Timmy,  she  carao 
to  the  spot  where  she  and  her  sister  had  seen 
tho  women  sitting  on  the  grass,  and,  remem- 
bering that,  she  hastened  on  to  overtake 
Marion. 

She  has  gone  but  a  few  steps,  however,  when 
she  came  upon  one  of  tho  strangers  sitting 
alone  on  the  roadside. 

"  What's  yer  haste,  maid  ?  "  she  called  out. 
"  I'm  waitiu'  hero   to  tell  ye  what  will  plazo 


BOG. 


VISITS  FROM  FRIEND  AND  FOE. 


311 


»ugh  I  should  liave 


i  an  old  threat  o' 
ighten  no  ono  but 
e  turn  of  the  road 
jT  homo,  and  I'll  go 
:  to  the  cottage,  as 
on,  saying  it's  you 
Good-night." 
eep  up  good  heart, 
1  hear  Elder  Peter 
the  Psalms  o'  David 
They  liave  only  tho 

Good-night." 

a  Tiinmy,  she  carao 

her  sister  had  seen 

grass,  and,  remem- 

d    on    to    overtake 

teps,  however,  when 
0    strangers   sitting 

? "  sho   called  out. 
yo  what  will  plazo 


yo.  Ye  are  too  fine  a  girl  to  waste  ycr  life 
drudging  over  cows,  and  flax  and  butter,  shut 
up  in  a  dull  old  cottage  whcre's  no  dances  nor 
songs.  Tiiere's  great  want  o'  girls  in  the 
liiicn  mills,  and  great  wages  given.  Will  yo 
go  if  yer  way  be  paid  ?  " 

'•  My  mammy  would  never  suffer  mo,"  re- 
plied Bessie,  as  she  passed  by  her  without  look- 
ing up, 

"  Well,  what  is  that  to  yo  ?  She's  no  mother 
to  ye,  but  only  a  hard  mistress  that  works  ye 
sore  and  gives  ye  no  pay." 

Bessie  was  too  much  afraid  to  lingor  and 
reply  in  defense  of  Peggy,  and  so  hurried  on. 
But  tlie  stranger  followed  her,  saying,  "  I  know 
who  yer  mother  is,  and  there's  where  ye'U  find 
love.  I've  read  ycr  fortun'  in  the  clouds  that 
blow  over  the  cottage.  There's  hapes  o'  gold, 
and  fine  clothes,  and  gay  friends  lying'  just 
a  lore  ye.  But  there's  a  journey  botwane  thera 
an  ye  —  ather  by  sea  or  land,  as  yo  plaze,  and 
rU  lade  yc,  it  yo  like,  to  the  illigant  luck  that's 
ahead." 

"Pll  never  leave  my   mammy   for  gold  or 


312 


GEMS  OF  THE  BOG. 


fiiio  clothes,"  cried  Bessie,  and  then  she  ran  on 
with  tlie  speod  of  an  antelope. 

When  she  reached  the  cow-yard,  Marion  was 
there  housing  her  rebellious  ducks.  She  pas- 
sed her,  and  entered  the  cottage,  resolved  not 
to  worry  her  mother  just  then  by  speaking 
of  either  America,  or  Timmy,  or  the  strange 
woman. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 


GOING  TO   AMERICA. 


"'p\  ARLIN',"  cried  Peggy,  aa  Bessie  entered 
iJ  the  door,  "  there's  ill  tidings  come  from 
dear  Miss  Grey  in  a  letter  to  Mr.  Murray. 
Hho's  very  ill,  and  will  have  us  three  come 
to  lior  by  the  morrow  morning's  post-chaise  — 
slic  said  partic'lar  '  not  by  the  wagon,  as  yo 
war  not  children,  now.'  If  she  die,  ycr  best 
IVioiid  is  gone,  my  jewel." 

"  No,  mammy,  you  are  my  best  friend,  and 
all  the  world  is  small  loss  to  me  while  God 
spares  you  and  Marion,"  I'cplied  the  affection- 
ate girl. 

"  And  yet,"  said  Peggy,  reproachfully,  "  yo 
would  lave  mo  and  go  to  a  strange  land  with 
the  widow  McRca." 

*'  0,  mammy,  dear,  Ireland  is  such  a  |)oor, 
worn-out  country  for  the  young,"  said  Bessie. 

313 


314 


OEits  OF  nil-:  liOfi. 


"  I'm  longiii'  to  do  something  more  than  just 
breathe,  and  what  can  I  do  in  Killyrookc  ?  " 

Toggy  made  no  reply  to  this  just  question. 
After  seating  the  family  at  table,  she  said, 
"  I  can  niver  ato  again  till  I  know  how's  dear 
Miss  Grey.  Oh,  the  tinder,  lovin'  friend  she's 
been  to  mc  !  Ate  yc,  but  let  mo  go  and  pre- 
pare for  the  setting  off." 

Twice  since  they  left  her  had  Miss  Grey 
seen  "  the  children,"  as  she  still  -ailed  them, 
but  she  could  scarcely  believe  that  the  tall 
girls  whom  Peggy  brought  to  her  bedside  were 

the  same. 

She  had  loving  words  of  advice,  and  a  little 
legacy  which  she  was  anxious  to  settle  on 
them  while  she  had  strength. 

"  Arc  they  good  girls  ?  "  she  asked.  "  Peg- 
gy, tell  mo  if  they  have  ever  grieved  you? 
Speak  the  truth  to  me,  — you  can  speak  noth- 
ing but  truth." 

"They  have  been  Ivor  true,  and  faithful, 
nnd  lovin',  and  willin',  but,"  and  she  turned  a 
mournful  look  on  Bessie,  »  but,  she  is  wcfvry 
o'  me,  and  o'  poor,  dear  Ireland,  and   is  rest- 


><;. 


QOINQ   TO  AMERICA. 


315 


more  than  just 
Cillyrookc  ?  " 
s  just  qucstiou. 
table,  she  said, 
now  how's  dear 
vin'  friend  she's 
[no  go  and  pre- 

had  Miss  Grey 
till  'ailed  them, 
0  that  the  tall 
lor  bedside  were 

rice,  and  a  little 
lus  to  settle  on 

0  asked.    "  Peg- 

or  grieved  you  ? 

can  speak  noth- 

iie,  and  faithful, 
and  she  turned  a 
jut,  she  is  wefvry 
land,  and   is  rest- 


less to  follow  the  crowd  to  America,  and  my 
ill-art  would  die  without  her  smile." 

Tlie  poor  girl  hung  her  head,  expecting  a 
rebuke,  but,  to  her  surprise,  Miss  Grey  said 
faintly,  "  I'm  glad  she  has  ambition  to  better 
her  lot.  Ireland  is  ground  to  the  dust  by  a 
double  oppression,  and  is  no  longer  tho  place 
for  the  young.  If  all  go  who  can  pay  their 
way,  there  will  still  be  more  left  than  can 
earn  their  bread,  and  many  of  them  must 
starve.  If  you  and  John  should  follow  mo 
to  the  grave  soon,  what  would  these  poor 
children  do  in  that  desolate  hamlet  ?  I  should 
bo  well  i)leased  if  part  of  Bessie's  portion  be 
fipent  in  getting  her  to  America.  Place  her 
with  some  trusty  friend  who  is  going,  and 
at  tlio  end  of  a  year  you  can  go  to  her,  or  she 
can  return  to  you  if  not  happy  there  But 
Marion  was  never  so  staid  as  Bessie ;  keep 
lu'r  close  to  your  own  side.  Do  not  lot  her 
«i't)ss  the  water  unless  you  do." 

IVggy  turned  very,  pale  at  these  words, 
luit  Bessie,  overcome  with  joy,  burst  into 
tours. 


m 


h 


816 


GEMS  OF  THE  BOO. 


"  Might  I  make  bold  to  ask,"  said  Peggy ; 
"  have  yc  ivor  got  any  account  of  their  mother 
or  father?" 

"  Never,  and  I  feel  very  sure  both  parents 
are  dead,"  rcidied  the  lady.  "  Why  do  you 
worry  yourself  about  them  ?  I  told  the  woman 
you  sent  to  ask,  that  you  must  never  think  of 
tliera,  l)ut  enjoy  the  children  that  God  sent  so 
mercifully  into  your  kind  hand." 

"  I  sent  no  woman,  dear  heart,  nor  man, 
Jiather,"  replied  Peggy,  in  surprise. 

"  One  came  with  questions,  she  said,  from 
you.  I  sent  replies  by  the  nurse,  but  did 
not  sec  her  myself,"  aiiawcred  Miss  Grey. 

"  Well,  it's  quite  mysterious  entirely !  "  ex- 
claimed Peggy ;  "  but  ye  are  now  faint,  dear, 
with  the  talkin'.  Pll  send  all  away  and  sit 
this  night  by  yer  side,  and  as  many  more 
iiigbfs  as  yc'll  suffer  me,  but  niver,  nivcr  can 
I  re[)iiy  yo  for  all  tlio  love  and  marcy  yo 
showered  on  mo  thim  days."  • 

Miss  Grey  rallied  after  this,  and  there  being 
no  need  of  Peggy's  services,  she  insisted  on 
her  returning  to  Killyrooko. 


GOING  TO  AMERICA. 


817 


said  Peggy; 
their  mother 

both  parents 
Why  do  you 
d  the  woman 
!vcr  think  of 
God  sent  so 

't,  nor  man, 

lO  said,  from 
•so,  but  did 
8  Grey, 
itirely !  "  ex- 
r  faint,  dear, 
iway  and  sit 
many  more 
sr,  nivcr  can 
1  marcy  yo 
• 
[  there  being 
insisted  on 


Some  bird  of  the  air — if  not  Paddy  Man- 
non  —  soon  dropped  a  hint  in  the  hamlet  tliat 
"  Miss  Grey  had  left  a  great  fortun'  to  the 
girls,  and  had  ordered  that  Bessie  with  the 
gold  open  out  in  her  hand  should  set  sail  as 
soon  as  she  pleased  for  America." 

Peggy  no  longer  tried  to  dissuade  Bessie 
from  her  purpose,  but  suggested  the  subject 
of  a  family  emigration. 

"  Yo  see,  John,  darlin',  how  the  people  is 
tliinnin'  off,  and  how  few  is  left  here.  What 
would  ye  say  to  us  all  goin'  ?  " 

Paddy  sprang  to  his  feet,  and  catching  his 
hat  off  one  peg  and  his  staff  from  another,  ex- 
claimed, "  I'd  say  '  yis,'  and  bo  off  by  the  sun 
risin'." 

"  Whist,  Paddy,"  said  his  master,  "  and 
don't  1)0  spakin'  when  yor.  not  spoke  to." 
And  turning  to  Peggy,  he  exclaimed,  "  Whero 
would  be  our  gratitude  to  God  as  has  watched 
over  our  crops  and  herds,  and  given  us  plenty 
while  others  is  starvin  ?  '  Could  ye  lave  the 
dear  grave  and  all  the  poor  souls  here  without 
a  one  to  care  for  them  ?  " 


318 


GEUS  OF  THE  BOO. 


P 


"  Shu  !  slui !  "  cried  Puddy,  "  tl>o  grave  will 
take  care  o'  itself,  and  as  for  tlio  few  souls 
here,  there's  none  left  tliat'a  worth  lookiu' 
afther.  See,  dears,  I  hecr,d  at  the  black- 
smith's that  all  Ireland's  goiii'  soon,  and  thin 

we'll  be  left  quite  alone  entirely,  and, " 

"  Paddy,"  cried  John,  as  sharply  as  ho 
could  say  any  thing,  "  if  ye  don't  be  quiet 
when  yer  masther  and  misthrcss  wish  to  be 
talkin',  PU  send  ye  out  to  the  cow-house  with 
yer  *  stirabout.'  " 

"  And,"  continued  Paddy,  nothing  daunted, 
"they  said  that  in  England  the  quauo  was 
payiii'  the  passage  o'  whole  shii>loads  o'  her 
paupers  to  get  them  to  that  fine  country. 
And  the  'Miricans  ia  that  glad  to  get  them  — 
bein'  all  rich  thimselves,  and  not  a  one  to  give 
their  charity  to  —  that  they  bo  standin'  on  the 
shores,  waitin'  the  ships  to  come  in,  and  thin 
they  fight  to  see  who'll  git  the  paupers  to  fill 
their  fine  empty  workhouses." 

Peggy   and    the   girls    laughed,    but    John 
cried,  sternly,  "  Will  ye  bo  quiet,  Paddy  ?  " 
"And,"   continued  Paddy,  deaf  to  aL\  re- 


OOINO  TO  AMERICA. 


319 


'  tl>o  grave  will 
tlio  few  souls 
worth   lookiu' 
at   tlio   black- 
soon,  and  thill 

,  and, " 

sharply  as  ho 
don't  be  quiet 
CSS  wish  to  be 
cow-house  with 

ithing  daunted, 
the  quauo  was 
lip-loads  o'  her 
;  fine  country, 
to  get  them  — 
at  a  one  to  give 
standin'  on  tlie 
no  in,  and  thin 
)  paupers  to  fill 

l»ed,    but    John 
it,  Paddy  ?  " 
deaf  to  aL\  re- 


proof, "  I  shall  soon  be  ashamed  to  hold  up 
my  liea.l  in  Ireland  if  the  very  paupers  can  go 
and  not  wo  — siicli  a  fine,  rcsplctablo  family, 
—  there's  not  tlic  like  of  us  in  that  country, 
thongh  some  of  thira's  richer  nor  we.  Wliiii 
^^^1I  we  start  off,  dears  ?  "  ho  cried,  implor- 
ingly,  "  I'm  afeared  folk'll  think  we  can't  raise 
tlio  passage-money." 

After  a  free  discussion  of  the  matter,  it  was 
decided  that  Bessie  should  go  witli  the  Widow 
McRca ;  who,  after  residing  in  America  several 
years,  and  doing  well  jn  a  little  store,  had  re- 
turned to  Ireland  for  lier  children.  Bell,  and 
Rose,  whom  she  had  left  with  a  sister  in 
Cloynmally.  If,  after  a  year's  trial,  Bessie 
was  happy,  John  promised  to  sell  the  lease 
of  the  farm  and  join  her  with  the  fiunily. 

Few  poor  girls  ever  set  off  from  that  pov- 
erty-stricken land  with  such  preparations  for 
comfort  on  sea  and  on  land  as  were  made  by 
the  loving  Sheehans  for  Bessie,  who  was  the 
light  of  their  eyes  and  the  pride  of  their 
hearts.  After  all  was  done  which  the  tcnder- 
est   love  could    prompt,  Mr.   Murray,  Elder 


820 


GE3fS  OF  THE  BOO. 


Peter,  and  others  of  the  little  church  were 
scut  for,  tlio  oveuuig  before  Bessie's  depariiire, 
to  comineiid  lier  to  the  care  of  ncavou,  and  to 
ask  God's  mercy  on  llie  lonely  licarts  she  was 
to  leave  beliiiid.  And  in  that  hour  this  be- 
loved child  was  committed  fully  to  the  care 
of  a  covcuant-keeping  God,  for  life  or  for  death. 
When  the  tears  were  all  shed,  and  the 
farewells  all  spoken,  Peggy  and  Bessie  and 
Marion  set  off  to  wait  the  post-chaise  at  Cloyn- 
mally.  The  loving  Peggy  had  determined  not 
to  part  with  her  child  till  the  water  should 
separate  them.  John  dared  not  trust  himself 
to  go  from  the  cottage  with  them.  Several  of 
the  little  church  were  waiting  them  at  "  the 
turn  o'  the  road,"  and  there  was  Paddy,  from 
whom  they  had  just  parted  at  the  cottage  !  Ho 
had  run  across  the  wet  bog  and  got  there  before 
them.    And  panting  and  sobbing,  he  cried  out : 

"  0,  Erin  !  (that's  the  grand  name  for  Ireland)  swate  Isle  o* 

the  sea  ! 
Hinchfor'arJ  no  flowers  shall  blosshom  on  thee  ; 
Thy  herCiS  shall  be  dead,  and  thy  birds  nivcr  sing, 
Thy  fowls  shall  bo  hatched  without  feather  or  wing. 

0-ho-ne ! 


i*J*ll.i.'>iKa9«ia?iR..iiwirTT«:7i--s'53««»'*~'-— ^- 


■v...jLAaaajiM.*rf.i^.,4.^w^  ^-i^--,Yy<Miip  p  rrr-Th'-- 


chtirch  wore 
o's  doparfeiiro, 
cavou,  and  to 
carts  she  was 

hour  this  be- 
.'  to  tlio  caro 
3  or  for  death, 
icd,  and  the 
I  Bessie  and 
aisc  at  Cloyn- 
itcrmined  not 
water  should 
trust  himself 
.  Several  of 
hem  at  "  the 
i  Paddy,  from 
cottage !  Ho 
at  there  before 
he  cried  out  : 

md)  swate  Isle  o* 

»; 
sing, 
wing, 
■ho-ne  ! 


GOiyO  TO  AMEItlCA.  35 

"  Thy  trcos  shall  grow  down'anls.  with  roots  in  the  air 
No  rain  sh.II  fall  ,lown,  but  bo  drought  ivcry  where 
And  why  this  distrisstul  confusion  ?   'Kase  why  ? 
'K:uic  swato  Bessie  Shechau's  detarraincd  to  fly. 

0-ho-no  I 
"  Mad  waves,  now  I  bid  ye  quite  paceful  to  lie, 
Wild  winds  don't  yo  whistle  once  more  in  the  sky, 
OKI  ..ccan,  roek  gintlo,  yer  i-oarin'  giv  o'er. 
Till  lliu  gim  o'  our  cot  reach  Amirican  shoi^ 

0-ho-ne  I , 
"  And  Bessie,  my  jewel,  whin  the  Yankees  ask  ye, 
Wl.y  tine  Pa,ldy  Munnon  am't  crossin'  the  sea, 
Ju.^t  till  thini  he's  settlin-  the  farm,  and  that  sLn 
With  masther.  and  misthress,  and  Mar'on  he'll  come. 

0-ho-ne ! 
"  Tlien  will  we  'bide  with  thim,  and  wander  no  more, 
But  call  yon  Ameriky  our  native  shore  ;  — •• 

And  While  Paddy  .as.stiU  howling  out  his 
lament,  the  post-chaise  came  up,  and  Peggy 
and  Bessie  drove  off  amid  the  tears  and  the 
God-bless-ye's  of  the  loving  little  group. 

31 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

A   PAINFUL   PARTING. 

TO  I^cggy's  amazement,  as  she  and  Bessie 
stepped  on  the  ship's  deck,  the  first  person 
they  encountered  was  Master  Tiramy  in  his 
Sunday  clothes,  looking  very  sober.  lie  had, 
for  the  first  time,  been  as  good  as  his  word  in 
the  matter  of"  running  off."  As  ho  could  get 
neither  permission  nor  money  ■  cross  tho  sea, 
he  was  determined  to  have  ast  the  last 

look  of  his  old  playmate  before  she  left  her 
native  land  for  ever. 

Peggy  was  at  first  much  displeased  at  sight 
of  him,  and  said,  half  tenderly,  and  half  re- 
proachlully,  "  See,  Timmy,  what  ye've  done 
by  stirrin'  up  my  darlin'  about  a  strange  laud. 
How  coidd  ye  be  so  cruel,  boy  ?  " 

«  We'll  all  follow  her  soon,  Misthress  Shco- 
han,"  he  answered,  with  a  frank  smile,  "  for 


I, 


:--^  -  -v...i7-_i?,#'rj--'v:j 


r-^si-m 


A  PAINFUL  PAIiTINO. 


323 


yc'll  not  'bide  long  after  her,  and  my  fathcr'll 
not  'Wide  long  behind  me,  for  goin'  I  am,  and 
that  aforo  long  too !  So  cheer  up,  since  ye  be- 
lave  that  all  things  work  for  good  to  thim  as 
ho  good,  —  and  who's  better  nor  Bessie  and 
ycrsilf,  dear  ?     What's  tears  about  ?  " 

This  was  said  very  bravely,  but  the  color 
deepened  on  Timmy's  cheek,  and  his  voice 
trembled  a  little,  and  Peggy  was  forced  to  for- 
got her  own  sorrows  and  turn  comforter. 
Casting  a  glance  full  of  pity  on  the  boy,  she  re- 
plied, "  I  forgive  ye,  dear  child,  from  my 
heart's  core ;  now  let's  away,  for,  as  poor 
Paddy  says, '  Our  sun  is  set  for  ever  in  the  sky 
o'  Ireland '  —  poor,  dear  Ireland  !  " 

After  folding  Bessie  again  and  again  in  her 
arms,  and  calling  down,  in  fervent  tones, 
Heaven's  "  swatest  blissings  "  on  her  head,  she 
left  her  sitting  in  tears  by  the  Widow  McRca ; 
and  taking  Timmy's  hand,  as  if  helpless  with- 
out aid,  she  turned  to  go. 

Then  Bessie's  high  heart  gave  way,  and  run- 
ning after  her,  she  threw  her  arms  round  her 
ucck,  and  cried,  "  Mammy,  go  home  and  tell 


.1 


^k 


324 


OEMS  OF  THE  BOO. 


father  to  soil  the  farm  at  oiico  and  come  to  mo, 
for  I  can  never  breathe  the  breath  o'  life  away 
from  you.  And  bo  suro  to  bruig  poor  Paddy, 
for  he'd  die  it'  left  behind,  and  I'm  sure  we  bo 
just  no  family  at  all  vjihout  him  —  the  dear, 
foolish  man  !     Will  you  come  soon  ?  " 

Peggy  did  not  look  at  the  child  of  her  lovo. 
She  dared  not  trust  herself,  but  answered,  "  If 
God  will,  darlin',  ye'll  see  us  in  a  twel'month. 
Farewell,  farewell,  my  jewel !  " 

As  she  and  Timiuy  stepped  off  the  vessel, 
tlicy  met  a  woman  in  black  leading  by  tho 
hand  a  young  girl  who  was  weeping  bitterly, 
and  who  had  only  a  shawl  over  her  head. 
"  There's  more  fnlks  nor  lis  in  sorrow, 
Timmy ;  yon  poor  Iambic's  to  bid  fiircwell  to 
one  she  loves,  and  may  bo  she  has  little  love  to 
go  back  to,  as  yo  and  I  have,  lad,"  said  Peggy, 
looking  back  pitifully  at  the  weeping  girl. 

As  she  uttered  these  words,  the  woman  in 
black  called  out  in  a  loud  tone  to  her  lingering 
companion,  to  hasten  her  steps.  Peggy  ut- 
tered a  cry  which  startled  Timmy.  Then  sho 
strove  to  compose  herself,  and  said  to  tho  won- 


■.'.ira\as;?rJst«!r»Mffia^w^'3^^*9w*i^!'tffTmfiri»^»ffl«*fJi^^ 


i  como  to  mo, 
h  o'  life  away 
t;  poor  Paddy, 
'm  sure  we  bo 
in  —  tlio  dear, 
11?" 

I  of  her  love, 
luswered,  "  If 
a  twcl'month. 

ff  the  vessel, 
adiiig  by  tbo 
;piiig  bitterly, 
rov  hor  head, 
i  iu  sorrow, 
)id  forewell  to 
8  littlo  love  to 
,"  said  Peggy, 
ling  girl. 
1)0  woman  iu 
her  lingering 
3.  Poggy  ut- 
ly.  Then  sho 
id  to  the  won- 


A  PAINFUL  PARTINO. 

dcriiig  boy,  "Tlio  voice  sounded  iiat'ral  and 
friglitcued  me  for  a  moment.  Tliat's  because 
my  heart's  weak  now;  let  us  haste  away, 
dear."  And  yet  she  looked  back;  but  tho 
woman  was  lost  in  the  crowd,  and  sho  heard 
only  tlie  sailors  ordering  all  on  shore  who  de- 
sired to  go.  Pressing  the  boy's  hand,  as  if 
tlius  sho  could  still  t.'io  anguish  in  her  heart, 
site  led  the  way  to  the  inn  where  they  wore  to 
take  the  post-cliaise. 

Wiiile  waiting  tho  hour  for  setting  off, 
Timmy  strove  to  divert  Peggy's  mind  from  the 
sea  by  talking  of  himself  and  his  plans. 

"  Father  will  nivcr  bind  me  to  Ireland,"  he 
cried.  "  A  boy  has  but  one  life,  and  should 
pass  that  where  he  wills.  What  can  an  old 
man  with  a  dried  up  heart  know  o'  the  ambi- 
tion o'  a  boy  ?  " 

"  Timmy,"  said  Peggy,  reprovingly,  « ye 
have  one  ^ncat  fault,  I  may  say,  a  su»,  aml- 

"  What  me,  mysilf?  "  cried  Timmy,  in  Sur 
prise  ;  "  you  surely  can't  moan  that  ?  " 

'•  Yes,  Timmy,  I  do  moan  just  that,"  an- 
swered Peggy. 


V 


"~rtRS8ss*r-«<rj33 


826 


GEMS  OF   THE  HOG. 


"A  great  fault!  And  p-ay  wimt  can  it 
be?"  cried  the  boy,  liis  fine  eyes  wide  open, 
and  his  cliooks  aglow  willi  wonder. 

"  Why,  Timmy,  it's  the  onrespcctfnl  way  yo 
spake  o'  yer  dear  father.  Ye  remombcr  God 
bids  yo  to  honor  yer  father  and  yer  mother, 
and  to  obey  them  in  all  things." 

"It  would  1)0  sore  hard  to  obey  the  elder 
<in  all  things,'"  replied  Timmy,  quite  relieved 
to  find  he  was  not  to  be  accused  of  lying  or 
theft.     "  Now,  as  yer  old  Paddy  says, '  he's  a 
Btono   man,  made   by  himself  out  o'  his  ow.i 
matarial,'  and  has  no  human  wakencss  about 
him.    Yo   mind.  Mistiness    Sheehan,  when  I 
was  a  small  bit  o'  a  boy,  and  would  gather  all 
the  girlies  in  the  place  about  me  and  sow  dolls, 
rags    with    them,  he    called    mo    'a    sheep,' 
and  bid  mc  be  off  playing   rough  with  the 
lads.     And  now  that  I'm  ^oekin'  to  work  hard 
like  a  man,  ho  turns  about  and  bids  me  go  to 
a  tailor  and  learn  to  sew.    I'll  not  do  it  if  I 
die.    I  fools  the  great  strength  in  my  bones, 
and  I'll  lot  it  out,  ather  on  the  stono  or  yet  on 
tho  land,  — and  I'll  do  it  iu  America,  too! 


■* iii|i'ilrn,tirgiri^''-ft1r  ;-i»4WK???r?=KS»**^«»^'>)'B*''SJWKiM6» 


it  cai!  it 
idc  open, 

il  way  yo 
ibcr  God 
•  mother, 

the  older 
Q  relieved 
f  lying  or 
^s, '  lie's  a 
»'  liis  own 
es3  about 
11,  when  I 
giithcr  all 
sow  dolls, 
'  a    sheep,' 
,  with  the 
work  hard 
Is  mo  go  to 
)t  do  it  if  I 
my  bones, 
10  or  yet  on 
lorioa,  too! 


A  PAINFUL  PABTINO. 


327 


That  1  will.  If  the  elder  likes  to  go  with  mo 
lie's  wilcome,  for  laud's  plinty  there,  and  if 
not,  he'll  just  have  to  'bido  where  ho  is." 

"Ah,  Timmy,  my  lad,  yon's  no  way  to 
spake  o'  tliim  that's  ilono  so  much  for  ye,  and 
that's  so  proud  o'  ye,"  said  Peggy. 

"  Who's  proud  o'  mo,  Misthross  Shoehau  ?  " 
asltcd  the  boy.  "Not  my  fatlier,  sure;  he's 
Boro  ashamed  o'  mo,  and  always  askiu'  mo 
wliy  I  arn't  like  Ned  McGco  and  the  Carney 
lads ;  and  they  goes  about  nights  howlin'  like 
boars,  and  stonin'  old  women's  cats,  and  the 
like.  And  all  the  trifliu'  /does  is  to  whittle 
thread-winders,  and  gather  flowers,  and  buy 
sugar  plums,  for  the  girls ;  and  for  that  ho 
calls  mo  '  a  sheep.'  No,  none  is  proud  of  mo, 
but  one  loves  me,  —that's  my  mother." 

"  Dear  lad,  Elder  Peter  is  too  proud  o'  yo 
for  a  Christian  man.  He's  never  dono  tellin' 
o'  yer  fine  lessons  and  yer  honest  behavior; 
and  both  himself  and  Mr.  Murray  is  just  quito 
proud  o'  yer  Latin  larnin',  hopin'  yersclf  will 
bo  a  schoolmasthor  yot,"  said  Peggy,  trium- 
phantly. 


I 


I 


.  % 


\ 


' 


m 


828 


OEMS  OF  THE  BOO. 


Timmy  laughed  outright.  "Latin  is  stuff 
for  tho  like  o'  ino !  I'm  not  tho  makiu'  o'  a 
scholar,  and  if  1  should  even  drag  on  at  tho 
book  till  I'd  got  a  school,  woe  to  tho  urchins 
bcnath  me!  Tl»i»  great  power  o'  strength 
that's  within  my  bones  must  como  out  and 
strike  somewhere  ;  if  not  tho  stone  or  tho  land, 
then  on  the  boys'  backs.  Spake  yo,  that  has 
such  power  over  tho  elder,  and  strive  to  get 
the  harness  off  my  showlders,  that  I  may  be  a 
man  as  well  as  look  like  one.  Hero  am  I, 
more  nor  seventeen  years  old,  and  yet  askin' 
my  father  may  I  do  this  or  that  to  arn  my 
bread ;  and  so  doin'  just  nothing  at  all.  I'll 
6ure  be  '  a  sheep '  at  this  rate." 

Peggy  promised  him  her  influence ;  and 
while  they  were  talking  thus  tho  post-chaise 
drove  up.  They  took  their  jJaces  on  the  top, 
and  were  off  for  tho  home  for  which  Peggy's 
heart  was  yearning.  She  was  hoping  the  love 
yet  loft  her  there  might  fill  the  blank  just 
made  by  Bessie's  departure. 


n  is  Btuff 
lakiii'  o'  a 
oil  at  tho 
10  urchins 
strength 
e  out  and 
•  tho  laud, 
I,  that  has 
ivo  to  got 
;  may  bo  a 
[ero  am  I, 
yet  asltiu' 
to  am  iny 
t  all.     I'll 

3UC0 ;  and 
post-chaiso 
)n  tho  top, 
ch  Peggy's 
g  tho  lovo 
blank  just; 


CHAPTER  iXIX. 


STOLEN  BY  THE   FOE. 


PEGGY  had  left  Marion  in  care  of  tho  cot- 
tage, with  many  charges  to  "  be  tinder  o' 
her  poor,  lovin'  father,  and  civil  to  Paddy,  and 
to  have  all  things  shiiiin'  on  her  return." 

Childlike,  Marion  had  dried  her  tears,  and 
begun  to  picture  to  herself  tho  beautiful 
tilings  which  Bessio  would  send  her  from 
America,  and  to  anticipate  her  own  voyage 
tliitlier.  She  was  a  great  "tease,"  and  was 
already  laying  plans  to  worry  the  indulgent, 
easy  John  into  speedy  preparations  for  the 
change. 

l>y  dinner  time  she  was  singing  about  tho 
cottage  as  merrily  as  if  no  empty  seat  were 
tlnn-c,  and  as  if  tho  pillow  beside  her  own  were 
sliU  to  bo  pressed  by  tho  bright  head  which 
had  used  to  lio  there. 


330 


330 


OEMS  OF  TIIK  liOO. 


Jo]^  aud  Paddy  had  at  loiigili  dried  their 
tears,  aud  gone  to  work  in  a  licld  at  somo 
little  distance  from  tlic  house.  Towards 
nightfall  they  heard  loud  voices  in  Mio  direc- 
tion of  tho  cottage,  and  then  shouts  and 
cries. 

"  Whist,  Paddy,"  cried  John.  "  What  can 
yon  noises  bo  ?  " 

"  Och,"  I'cplied  Paddy,  coolly,  "  it's  on'y 
some  o'  our  neighbors  bating  tho  life  out  o'  a 
few  o'  tlieir  spare  childer.  When  my  milkin' 
time  comes,  I'll  go  up  and  quiet  the  distar- 
bance." 

John  smiled,  and  as  tho  voices  ceased  ho 
thought  no  more  of  the  circumstances  till  he 
returned  homo  and  found  the  stool  and  pail  be- 
side a  half-milked  cow,  but  no  supper  ready, 
and  no  bright  little  Marion  waiting  at  the  door 
to  welcome  him.  He  called  her  loudly,  and 
went  from  room  to  room  through  the  cottage, 
but  in  vain ;  all  was  silent  there.  His  alarm 
was  increased  by  Paddy  coming  in  from  tho 
yard,  whither  he  had  gone  to  milk,  holding  up 
tho  little  rod  shawl  Marion  always  woro  at 


-„%'WiwtmawBi»feiai>M>aaiiaiS»'' 


STOLEN  BY  THE  FOE. 


331 


•ied  their 

at  somo 

Towards 

ho  dircc- 

outs   and 

Vhat  can 

it's  on'y 
0  out  o'  a 
y  inilkiii' 
10  distar- 

eased  ho 
OS  till  he 
d  pail  bo- 
or ready, 
:  the  door 
•udly,  and 
0  cottage, 
[lis  alarm 
from  the 
oldiiig  up 
woro  at 


niilkiiig,  and  crying  out,  in  a  tone  of  agony, 
"  Wiicrc's  our  child  ?  Tiic  gypsies  or  the  evil 
.sperlts  has  stole  her  away,  and  left  midniglit  iji 
my  soul.  Ohone !  who'll  give  mo  my  child 
afore  1  dies  o'  fear  ?  " 

Jolin  grasped  the  little  kerchief,  and  hold- 
ing it  up  towards  the  light,  gazed  at  it  as  if  ho 
liopod  there  to  read  the  mystery  of  her  ab- 
sence. Jacob  did  not  look  more  anxiously  at 
tlic  coat  of  many  colors. 

Tiie  two  ran  from  house  to  house  in  great 
alarm,  hoping  to  learn  the  child's  Isito.  The 
ncighl)ors  had  heard  a  noise,  but  "  thought 
Piuldy  was  batiu'  the  boys  who  had  stolon  his 
dncivs,  and  that  the  cries  camo  from  them." 
They  almost  ridiculed  the  fears  of  those  two 
strong  men,  but  tlicy  joined  in  their  search 
through  bog  and  wood,  and  finally  wandered 
toward  tlie  lough.  One  persoi;  had  see  a  strange 
man  and  a  woman  in  black  talking  with 
.Mfirion  at  the  cow-yard,  and  another  iiad  seen 
a  strange  horso  and  jaunting  car  standing  at 
the  end  of  the  lane  ;  but  that  was  all. 


f 
I 

i 


•I 


f 


332 


QEAfS  OF  THE  BOO. 


There  was  little  sleep  that  night  in  Killy- 
rooke.  John  and  Paddy,  weeping  like  children 
and  acconijjanied  by  a  band  of  pitying  neigh- 
bors, went  from  house  to  house,  blew  the  horn 
and  dragged  the  lough. 

While  the  men  were  abroad,  the  women, 
each  with  her  rush  taper  in  hand,  went  to  the 
cottage  to  gossip  over  (lie  mystery.  In  their 
womanly  tenderness  they  forgot  all  differences, 
and  all  forgave  Peggy  for  her  neat  dairy, 
her  glass  windows,  her  table-cloth  and  her 
carpet. 

Two  boys  who  had  been  dispatched  for  Mr. 
Murray  now  returned  with  him  and  Elder 
Peter ;  the  latter,  though  somewhat  anxious 
about  the  fate  of  his  own  heir,  took  good  care 
not  to  allude  to  it,  lest  he  might  expose  the 
weakness  of  his  family  government. 

Scarciiing  proved  all  in  vain ;  so  the  neigh- 
bors dropped  off,  one  by  one,  till  only  Mr.  Mur- 
ray and  I^ldor  Peter  remained. 

"  Have  you  no  suspicion,  John,  where  she 
can  bo  ? "  asked  the  minister. 


*■ 


vmisimMsialti^^-xmimi.:' 


;lit  in  Killy- 
ke  children 
tying  ncigh- 
3w  the  hora 

;he  women, 
went  to  the 
J.  In  their 
differences, 
neat  dairy, 
h.    and  her 

led  for  Mr. 

and  Elder 
lat  anxious 
k  good  care 
expose  the 

)  the  ncigli- 
ly  Mr.  Mur- 

,  where  she 


STOLEN  BY  THE  FOE. 


333 


"  Niver  a  one,"  replied  John,  shaking  his 
head  mournfully.  "  And  how'll  iver  I  meet 
Peggy  after  betrayin'  her  trust  thus?  " 

"  You,  perhaps,  have  some  thought  about  it, 
Paddy  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Murray  again. 

"'Dade,  thin,  I  have  a  fine  thought  jist 
come  to  me,"  replied  Paddy.  "  But  it  might 
be  oncivil  to  spake  o't  hero,  as  I'd  bo  to  name 
one  I'm  forbid  to  spake  about." 

"Speak  out,  Paddy,"  cried  John,  "and 
let's  have  none  o'  yer  long  talks  or  yer  non- 
sense in  a  time  like  this." 

"  Well,  Mr.  Murray,  sir,"  exclaimed  Paddy, 
"it  is  jist  this:  Three  nights  agone  I  war  in 
at  the  horse-shoer's ;  and  more  men  war  there ; 
and  in  comes  the  inimy  o'  this  house  and  this 
name,  and  she  in  black  wades,  to  be  sure! 
And  the  men  all  asked  her  where  did  she  live, 
and  what  did  she  work.  And  och,  sorra  me ! 
didn't  I,  as  war  forbidden  o'  my  misthress  to 
look  on  her  or  to  breathe  her  name,  like  the 
fool  I  bees,  go  talkin'  to  her  ? 

"  She  asked  mo  about  the  fortun'  Miss 
Grey  gave  the  ohildern,  and  where  was  the 


f 


imnt^m 


334 


OEMS  OF  THE  BOO. 


gold  kept ;  and  I  told  her  in  a  belt  about  tlio 
darliii'  childor.s'  waists.  And  she  asked  l)y 
what  vessel  would  Bessie  go,  and  who  would  go 
with  her,  aud  all  that  like. 

"  She  said  herself  was  goiu'  to  America  as 
soon  as  the  passage  money  was  ariicd ;  and 
that  now,  in  the  mano  time,  she  was  about  the 
country  sarviu'  a  society  o'  holy  ladies  in  the 
great  city,  by  layin'  tax  on  the  people  and  col- 
lictin'  money  and  orphints  for  a  new  'shylum 
they  war  buildin'.  Ochloch!  if  that  same 
sarpint  with  a  human  face  has  stole  off  our 
jewel !  What  an  illigant  orphint  she'd  be  to 
ornamint  a  'shylum  with  !  I  belavo  yon  one's 
got  her  by  my  folly.  Och,  ye  miserable  man, 
Paddy  Mannon,  will  ye  nivcr  lam  wisdom  by 
the  sorrow  ye  bring  on  yersilf  and  others  !  " 

"  Paddy,  did  you  tell  any  one  that  the  child- 
ren carried  Miss  Grey's  gold  about  them?" 
asked  Mr.  Murray. 

"  Dado  I  did.  I  heerd  my  misthress  say  she 
was  scwin'  Bessie's  up  in  a  belt  for  her  to  wear 
about  her  waist.  And  she  always  trated  the 
twos  quite  aqual,  so  I  thought   Mar'ou's  gold 


.__  ,;;;»«SP"" 


STOLEN  BY  Tim  FOE. 


335 


It  about  tho 

0  asked  by 
Ijo  would  go 

America  as 
arucd ;  and 
IS  about  the 
idics  ill  the 
iplo  and  col- 
Q\v  'sbylum 
'  that  same 
stole  off  our 
slie'd  be  to 
vc  you  one's 
serablc  man, 

1  wisdom  by 
otbors !  " 
lat  the  cliild- 
)ut  them?" 

iress  say  she 
•  hei'  to  wear 
s  trated  the 
[ar'ou's  gold 


would  be  there,  too;  and  that  if  yon  one 
thou<;bt  to  steal  it,  she'd  find  it  unpossible  I  " 

Tlicre  was  now  a  loud  knock  at  the  door, 
and  Paddy  leaped  half  way  across  the  floor  to 
o|(cn  it.  Tlicrc  was  Father  Clakcy's  honest 
old  face,  flushed  with  excitement  and  terror. 
At  siglit  of  him,  Paddy  darted  back  more 
quickly  than  he  had  gone  forward,  and  hid 
himself  behind  the  rough  settle  on  which 
John  was  seated,  for  this  was  the  first  time 
siiici>  lie  had  left  his  flock  that  he  had  met  the 
priest  face  to  face.  Whenever  ho  had  seen 
him  coming  down  the  road,  he  had  always 
foiuid  it  convenient  to  run  into  the  cow-house 
and  draw  the  wooden  bolt  behind  him,  or  to 
hide  under  the  hedge.  His  allegiance  was 
broken,  but  his  fear  remained. 

"  Any  news  yet,  friends,  o'  the  pleasant 
child  ?  "  asked  the  old  man.  "  I've  a  sore  fear 
on  my  heart  that  evil's  come  to  her  tlirough 
the  mad  boasting  o'  this  fool,  Mannon.  Come 
out  o'  that,  ye  miserable  crctur,"  cried  the 
priest,  striking  a  heavy  blow  on  the  back  o'  the 
settle.    Paddy  shrieked  as  if  it  had  fallen  on 


i 


* ,  ^  I 


336 


GEMS  OF  THE  BOO. 


liis  licad,  but  did  not  appear.  "  Como  out  and 
tell  what  ye  rcvalcd  to  you  woman  in  black, 
after  yo  loft  tlio  smith's  sliop  wIkm-o  yc  were 
boastinj^  about  the  ^^i\A.  I'lu  tuUl,  sir,"  lio 
f-aid,  addressing  Mr.  Murray,  "  by  th:!  man  o' 
the  Bhop,  that  tins  woman  followed  him  out, 
talkin'  with  him,  till  he  got  afraid  o'  her  and 
ran  homo  over  the  fields." 

They  could  hear  Paddy's  loud  breathing  and 
almost  the  l)cating  of  his  heart;  but  they  could 
not  get  him  out  of  his  hiding-place  till  Mr. 
Murr.yv  took  a  seat  on  the  settle  and  bade  him 
come  and  sit  beside  him,  promising  that  no  man 
should  lay  a  hand  on  him.  Then  the  poor  fel- 
low crci)t  out,  pale  as  one  of  his  own  ghosts, 
and  whispc"  d,  "  I  knows  uo  more ;  I's  toid  yo 
all." 

"  What  did  yea  woman  say  to  yo,  Man- 
/  on  :  •'  cried  Father  Clakey,  stamping  his  foot 
on  the  floor. 

•'  She  —  -Jm  —  och  !  she  said  she  war  akin  to 
our  chil  —  childer  !  that  hcrsilf  was  ather  tlielr 
mother  or  their  cusin,  —  she'd  forget  which! 
But  that  beiu'  their  kin,  she'd  get  oaougli  o' 


tl 


i\ 


i%i\f*AZ  -■     ,^^^S&^i^-J^^*^ 


'^aSs&^Sy-*'SS!ar'';V<'iSi.. 


-j.sm 


STOLEN  nr  THE  FOE. 


337 


no  out  and 
II   in  bluck, 

0  yo  wcro 
d,  sir,"  Ijo 
ho  man  o' 
(I  liiiu  out, 
o'  her  and 

iatliin<;  and 

tlioy  could 

;e   till   Mr. 

1  bade  him 
hat  no  man 
10  poor  fcl- 
\vn   ghosts, 

I's  told  yo 

)  yo,  Man- 
iig  his  foot 

war  akin  to 
athor  tliolr 

got  which ! 
enough  o' 


tho  gold  to  carry  her  across  tho  soa,  —  what- 
ivcr !  och  !  my  heart !  " 

"  And  why,  then,  didn't  ye  tell  this  at  ouco 
to  yer  misthrcss,  yo  miserable  loon?"  cried 
the  priest. 

"  Bckase,  yer,  —  yer  rivcrenco,  she  said  if 
I'd  tell  a  word  she  spake,  she'd  bate  me  aforo 
all  tho  boys  !     So,  so,  out  o'  silf-rispect  I  hild 
my  tongue ;  and  see  ye  all  what's  come  o't.    Is 
there  no  world  on  this  arth   that  we  can  'mi- 
grate to  where  she'll  not  be  ?     What's  Ivor  tho 
use  o'  goin'  to  America  now,  and  her  there  ?  " 
"  If  this  family  lave  their  native  land,  I'll 
advise   thim  to  lave   ye  in  it,   Mannon.'   Tho 
House  o'  Corriction   is  the  place  for  yo,  with 
wit  enough  to  do  evil,  and  not  enough  to  do 
good,"  said  the  priest. 

"  Please,  sir,"  said  John,  «  he's  a  paceable 
cretur"  and  would  lay  down  his  life  for  the 
childor." 

"  More's  the  pity  he  hadn't  done  it  then, 
'stead  o'  betraying  one  o'  them  into  the  hand 
o'  an  emeny.  Yon  evil  one  is  no  doubt  by  this 
time  off  with  yer  child,  unless  she  larns  there's 

93 


iffl>yjwg>«*"  wi^'.'^'^-"'-'^-'^' 


JU«-^ 


338 


GEMS  OF  THE  BOO. 


no  money  about  her ;  if  she  find  that  out  too 
late,  she'll  set  her  adrift  iu  a  strange  place. 
Though  if  she  had  tlio  two  in  America,  she'd 
make  capital  out  o'  them. ;— Heaven  help 
then  the  fine  rispoctful  things  they  war  to 
ivery  body.  I've  had  men  out  sarching  for 
the  child  till  I  got  this  word,  and  then  I 
thought  it  vain.  But  I'm  at  yer  service,  and 
will  turn  the  whole  town  out  o'  their  beds  if 
ye  need;  good-night,  neighbors."  And,  to 
Paddy's  relief  and  joy,  he  closed  the  door  be- 
hind him. 


I 


A'e/aiimfmmMmm^fi^m'- 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

PATIENT  IN   TRIBULATION. 

IT  was  part  of  Timiny's  plan  not  to  appear 
to  have  boon  far  away,  and,  at  liis  leisure, 
to  drop  in  at  his  homo  as  if  ho  had  only  been 
at  his  cousins',  where  he  often  passed  a  night. 
So  when  ho  and  Peggy  were  set  down  ab  "  the 
turn  o'  tiio  road,"  he  insisted  on  walking  to 
Killyrooke  with  her,  carrying  her  baskets. 

It  was  just  at  nightfall  thoy  entered  the 
cottage.  Mr.  Murray,  Elder  Peter  and  some 
liiilf  dozen  other  friends  were  there  again,  con- 
Koliiig  John  and  Paddy,  who  had  spout  the  day 
in  unavailing  tears. 

When  Poggy  saw  these  grave  men  sitting 
ii'.  her  little  parlor  in  solemn  couclavo,  she  was 
surprised.  As  no  smile  lighted  any  face  iu 
the  group,  she  took  alarm,  and  turning  very 

339 


840 


GEMS  OF  THE  DOG. 


pale,   cried,   "  whcrc's  my  dailiu'  cMld,   that 
she's  not  at  the  gate  to  greet  mo  ?  " 

Still  no  one  spoke,  and  she  cried  out, 
"  John,  whore's  my  child  ?  " 

Poor  John  burst  into  tears,  and  could  not 
reply.  Mr.  Murray  then  said,  calmly,  "  Mis- 
tress Shcehan,  you  are  not  of  those  who  expect 
to  receive  good  at  the  hand  of  the  Lord  and 
not  evil.  You  have  seen  too  much  of  His 
mercy  to  doubt  Ilim  now,  even  though  clouds 
and  darkness  surround  Him." 

"  Is  sho  dead,  then  ?  tell  me,  dear  hearts, 
and  not  kapo  mo  in  this  great  fear.  I,  that 
ha'  given  all  to  God,  did  not  withhold  her. 
And  if  lie  has  taken  her  to  Himself,  He's  took 
no  more  nor  His  own." 

Encouraged  by  her  calmness,  John  began  a 
recital  of  tiie  painful  story.  As  soon  as  "  the  wo- 
man dressed  in  black  "  was  mentioned,  Peggy 
cried  out,  "  I  saw  her,  darlin',  with  my  own 
two  eyes,  and  I  heard  her  voice.  It  was  vii/ 
lamhie  sho  war  draggin'  in  tears,  on  shipboard 
—  och,  it  war    you  fearful  woman;    and    I 


tss^'^mmsmm^ms^^&iism.^ 


PATIENT  IN   TRIBULATION. 


341 


cbild,   that 
cried   out, 

could  not 
nly,  "  Mis- 
kvlio  expect 

Lord  and 
ich  of  His 
ugh  clouds 

oar  hearts, 

V.     I,  that 

hhold   her. 

He's  took 

HI  hcgan  a 
18  "  the  wo- 
ued,  Peggy 
h  ray  own 
It  was  mij 
L  shipboard 
u ;    aud    I 


might  have  sa\ed  the  child  —  Timray  aud  I. 
She  war  at  o  ir  very  hand,  wern't  she,  dear 
boy  ?  " 

Timray  nodded,  and  Elder  Peter  looked 
surprised  at  his  knowing  wliat  was  seen  on 
8hipl)oard  ;  but  he  was  too  shrewd  to  ask  ques- 
tions. 

"  If  ye  had  toM  me  the  darlin'  were  hid 
safe  in  the  gr^ve,  I'd  ha'  done  like  David  when 
his  cliild  war  dead  ;  but  to  be  in  her  hands," 
cxclairaed  Peggy. 

"  Slie's  not  in  her  hands  nor  yet  in  her 
])ower.  Mistress  Sheehan,'  replied  Mr.  Mur- 
ray. "  Slie's  as  safe  now,  surely,  as  if  she 
wei-e  in  the  grave,  an'd  the  sarae  love  watches 
over  her.  Bessie  is  on  the  ship,  and  will  rc- 
l)ort  the  woman  to  the  captain  and  ask  protec- 
tion. Keep  you  quiet,  and  soon  you'll  hear 
of  the  two  being  safe  on  the  other  shore.  I 
beg  yon  not  to  cast  away  your  confidence, 
which  hath  great  recompense  of  reward.  God 
has  brought  you  throngh  gf  and  sore  trials 
already,  and  bo  assured  lie  will  not  now  give 
yonr  peace  over  into  the  hand  of  your  enemy." 


;.j5j^:;^?jj¥^^jSBiw«*w«^-*'ri^-''^srT^'-'"'*;.^-f=»r----'T'i 


;   % 


842 


GEMS  OF  THE  BOO. 


"  He  will  not,  dear  Mr.  Murray,"  cried 
Peggy,  smiling  through  her  tears.  "  That's 
an  inimy  tliat's  vanquished  and  that  has  lost 
her  power.  She  may  plot  evil,  but  can  never 
carry  it  out  agin  us,  for  we're  hid  under  the 
shadow  o'  the  Almighty.  Once,  friends,  in 
tiio  midnight,  I  had  a  sore  struggle  about 
you  one ;  and  I  thought  she'd  yet  triumpli, 
hut  the  great  peace  come  and,  rolled  like  a 
billow  o'  love  o'er  my  soul,  and  the  fear  was 
gone,  and  has  never  conic  back  since  then. 
Her  voice  makes  mo  start  for  a  moment,  but 
then  I  remembers  that  she's  under  my  feet, 
and  no  weapon  formed  agin  rac  or  mine  can 
prosper.  Ye  may  think  this  bold  talk,  friends, 
for  a  poor  weak  sinner,  but  I've  had  the  word 
o'  tlie  Lord  for't,  and  His  word  standeth  sure. 
I'll  yet  clasp  my  two  children  in  the  land  o' 
the  living." 

"  0,  woman,  great  is  thy  faith  ! "  cried  the 
pastor,  *'  and  according  to  thy  faith  be  it  unto 
thee." 

When  John  and  Peggy  opened  the  door  to 
let  their  guests  out,  thoy  saw  several  of  their 


iriiii*     II    I 


r. 


PATIENT  IN  TRIBULATION. 


343 


av,"  cried 
,  "  That's 
it  has  lost 
can  never 
under  the 
friends,  in 
gglc  about 
t  triumph, 
lied  like  a 
e  fear  was 
since  then, 
loment,  but 
!r  my  feet, 
'  mine  can 
ilk,  friends, 
d  the  word 
ideth  sure, 
the  land  o' 

cried  the 
I  be  it  unto 

lie  door  to 
•al  of  their 


Immblc  neighbors  waiting  at  the  gate  for  their 
departure,  that  they  might  go  in   and  sympa- 
thize with   Peggy.     Once  witiiin   the   cottage, 
they  commenced,  in  true  Irish  style,  to  weep 
and  liowl ;  wliilo  some  few,  having  got  a  hint 
about  Nan,  began  to  curse  her,  hoping  thus  to 
manifest  in  the  strongest  manner  their  sorrow 
for  Peggy.     But   she,  pale  and  calm  to  a  de- 
gree   wliich    astonished    them,   said,    "Take 
seats,   kind  neighbors,  and   cease   this  noise. 
It  breaks  my  heart,  and  it  will  not  bring  back 
my  cliild.     Nather  let  mo  hear  any  that  would 
befriend  me  curse  a  soul  that  God  has   made. 
Hundreds  o'  prayers  has  gone  up  to  Heaven 
fiom  these  lips  for  that  evil  woman,  that  she 
might  yet  be  pardoned ;  and  do  ye  think  that 
after  that   I  could   stand    by   and    hear  her 
cursed  ?     Maybe   my  children   will   be   let   to  ' 
bless  her  soul.    There's  many  a  one,  friends, 
as  evil  as  her,  that's  been  washed  and  mado 
clean,  and  at  last  been  let  in  among  the  holy." 
"  And  thin  ain't  ye  sorry  after  the  child  ?  " 
asked    an   old  woman,  who  was   disappointed 
in  not  being  allowed  to  curse  Nan  —  cursing 


|1 


844 


GEMS  OF  THE  BOG. 


being  being  one  of  her  professions,  for  the 
practice  of  which  she  always  cxpoctcd  to  be 
paid. 

"  Yes,  Betty,  I'm  heart-sick  for  my  child, 
but  I'm  not  goin'  to  rave  like  au  onrasonin' 
woman.     I  belavo  she's  in  the  Lord's  hand, 
and  whoever's  there  is  safe.    Yc  all  know, 
dear  women,  how  I  loves  the  child  ;  so  look  at 
me  now  and  see  what  strength  God  can  give 
to  a  poor  weak  mortal.     This  is  the  conifort 
and  joy   my   religion   gives  in   distress.     Ye 
mind  it  helped  one  long  ago  to  trust  Him  and 
be  quite  asy  when  a  flood  covered  all  but  him- 
self and  his  family.     It  enabled  others  to  walk 
calm  ill  a  fiery  furnace,  and  others  again  in 
a  den  full  up  o'  lions;  and  couldn't  it  bear 
me  through  this  ?   There's  only  one  ocean  be- 
tween me  and  my  children,  and  I've  not  got  to 
bridge  it  afore  I  can  get  to  them.     God  pre- 
pared a  way  over  the  mighty  sea  long  before  I 
was  born,  and  all  I  have  to  do  now  is  just  to 
go  over  it.    And  that  I'll  soon  do,  and  gather 
my  family  all  about  me." 

Tliis  last  sentence  set  the  poor  neighbors  to 


■  liiMii-'rir''-' 


Tiiijtei)  i<i  n 


PATIENT  IN  TRIBULATION. 


345 


)ns,  for  the 
)octcd  to  be 

r  my  child, 
1  onrasoniii' 
jord's  hand, 
0   all  know, 
;  so  look  at 
od  can  give 
the  conilbrt 
[istress.     Ye 
ist  Him  and 
all  but  him- 
thers  to  walk 
ers  again  in 
Idn't  it  bear 
10  ocean  be- 
'vo  not  got  to 
I.     God  pre- 
long  before  I 
ow  is  just  to 
,  and  gather 

neighbors  to 


howling  and  weeping  again,  for  they  realized 
the  sad  loss  tliis  family  would  bo  to  poor 
Killyrooko,  whence  the  younger  people,  and 
indeed  all  who  were  able  to  work,  were  going 
as  fast  as  they  could  get  money  to  pay  their 
passage  to  America. 

"  Cease  yer  howlin'  there,  oiild  bodies," 
cried  Paddy,  who  had  slipped  off  his  chair  at 
the  departure  of  "  the  fine  company  "  and  seat- 
ed liimsclf  on  the  clay  floor  in  a  dark  corner, 
where  he  now  sat  hugging  his  knees.  "  Cease 
yer  noise,  will  ye,  and  not  put  my  misthress 
off  the  idee  o'  the  voyage  ?  Think  what  a  fine 
thing  this  is  to  be  for  us  as  a  family,  and  iny- 
silf  in  pertic'lar !  Why,  whin  I  raches  yon 
illigant  country,  I'll  be  no  more  '  Paddy  ^lan- 
non,'  but '  Mr.  Mannon.'  Old  Tim  Marphy  got 
word  in  a  letter  from  Judy  and  Dave  that  the 
schoolmaster  here  must  direct  all  their  letters 
to  '  Mish  Judy  Marphy,'  and  '  Misther  David 
Marphy  ; '  .  for  they  was  all  '  Misther '  and 
'  Mish '  in  that  counthry.  There  we'll  have 
'  Mish  Bessie  Shechan,'  and  '  Mish  Mar'on 
Sheohan,'  and  '  Misther  Mannon,'  as  well  as 


m 


846 


GEMS  OF  THE  BOO. 


the  grand  lady  and  gintleman  —  John  and 
Peggy  —  above  us  all !  " 

"  Paddy,  cease  yer  nonsinso  now,  like  a 
good  man,  while  I  have  a  few  words  with  the 
pityiu'  neighbors,"  cried  Peggy  imploringly. 
"  Here's  poor  Molly  waitin'  to  get  in  a  word 
to  me." 

"  Well  thin,"  cried  the  poor  woman,  wiping 
away  her  tears,  "  will  ye  suffer  us  to  take  the 
work  o'  the  cottage  off  ye  till  ye  gits  a  bit  over 
the  freshness  o'  the  throublc?  Norra  Burke 
will  do  the  railkin'  witli  licr  strong  young 
hands,  and  Sullivan's  wife  will  make  the 
butter  as  nato  as  an  angel  could  do  it;  and 
mysilf,  — well,  I'll  just  do  the  manest  thing  ye 
bid  me,  in  mimory  o'  what  ye  did  for  my 
Mickey  when  he  was  laid  up  o'  the  shivers." 

"  Ten  thousand  thanks  to  yo  all,  good  neigh- 
boVs,"  said  Peggy,  "  but  at  a  time  like  this  I 
could  niver  spare  my  work  out  o'  my  own 
hands.  When  the  hands  is  busy,  the  heart's 
far  easier  nor  other  times.  Half  the  sin  and 
sorrow  in  the  world  comes  o'  idleness.  I'll 
put  through  all  the  work  that  the  three  of  u  a 


i..„-. 


?. 


PATIENT  IN  TRIBULATION. 


347 


1  —  John  and 

3  now,   like   a 

words  with  tho 

;y  imploringly. 

get  iu  a  word 

woman,  wiping 
iia  to  take  tho 
5  gits  a  bit  over 
Norra   Burke 
strong  young 
srill    make    the 
uld  do  it;   and 
nanest  thing  ye 
ye   did   for   my 
)'  the  shivers.' 
all,  good  neigh- 
time  like  this  I 
jut  o'   my  own 
usy,  the  heart's 
alf  the  sin  and 
i'  idleness.    I'll 
the  three  of  us 


used  to  do ;  and  beside  that,  if  any  o'  ye  are 
o'crburdened,  I'll  lend  a  hand  with  the  needle. 
I'd  wish,  dear  neighbors,  to  be  that  lovin'  and 
helpful  to  ye  while  I  'bido  hero,  that  ye'll  miss 
me  sore  when  I've  gone.  I'd  desire  ye  to  re- 
member myself,  and  also  the  words  o'  my  Mas- 
ter that  I've  so  often  read  to  ye.  Ye  mind  that 
ho  said,  '  I  will  send  ye  another  Comforter,' 
and  ye  see  he  has  fulfilled  his  word  to  me. 
I'd  be  w'ld  now  only  for  that.  He's  as  ready 
to  comfort  ye,  as  me,  if  ye'll  but  go  to  Him." 


"■=w»BW*»5iB!i«siMasi*®^aw»Msi^^ 


CHAPTER  XXXL 


NEW  HOMES  IN  THE  NEW  WORLD. 

NAN  O'Gonnau  had  been  for  some  timo 
plotting  against  the  gold  which  she  fan- 
cied Miss  Grey  was  to  leave  in  vast  sums  to  tho 
Sh'jchau  girls.  Having  heard  that  a  mystery 
'.iuiig  about  the  fate  of  their  mother,  she  had 
V  'kedall  that  distance  to  learn  wliat  she  could 
from  Miss  Grey,  saying  that  Peggy  had  sent  her. 
Although  she  got  little  information  for  tho 
trouble,  she  saw  enough  to  satisfy  her  that 
there  was  wealth  in  tho  house  ;  and  concluded 
that,  as  there  were  no  children,  there  would  be 
no  legal  heirs  to  it.  Wlien,  thoreforo,  she 
heard,  first  by  rumor  and  then  from  Padily  Man- 
non,  that  the  girls  were  now  rich,  and  carried 
their  gold  about  tlioir  waists,  she  thought  her 
hour  had  come  to  reach  An.orica  —  that  land  of 
golden  dreams.   She  had  therefore  laid  her  plans 

348 


i-. 


NEW  HOMES  IN  THE  NEW   WOnLD. 


.^4^ 


WORLD. 

)r  some  timo 
vhich  sho  fan- 
ist  sums  to  the 
liat  a  mystery 
lOthcr,  sho  had 
wliat  she  could 
;y  had  scut  hor. 
nation  for  tho 
itisfy  licr  that 
and  couchidcd 
there  would  he 
therefore,  she 
om  Paddy  Man- 
ch,  and  carried 
lie  thought  her 
—  that  land  of 
re  laid  her  plans 

348 


for  sailing  in  tho  same  ship  with  Bessie,  re- 
friirrliiig  llie  meek  wiilow  ^IcRca  as  no  ol)staclo 
whatever  in  the  w.i;,  ^iie  had  niarlced  out.  It 
then  occurred  to  her  that  she  "  might  as  well 
liavc  hoth  fortunes  as  one ;  "  so,  after  Peggy 
liad  gone  in  the  day's  post-chaise  with  Bessie, 
siie,  with  an  accomplice,  had  watclicd  about  tho 
cottage  till  sho  was  sure  Marion  was  alone,  and 
then  leaving  their  horse  and  jaunting-car  in  a 
by-lane,  aCcostc*.  the  child  as  sho  came  out  to 
milk. 

Marion,  of  i-ourse,  was  fearless  of  danger, 
and  cliattcd  freely  of  tho  family  plans.  Nan 
induced  her  to  leave  tho  yard,  and  go  to  tho 
laiH^  to  see  tlio  jaunting-car  in  which  she  was 
to  bo  driven  to  the  sea-port  that  night.  Once 
tliore,  she  was  pressed  in,  and,  seated  on  a 
trunk,  was  driven  off  in  a  state  of  dreadful 
terror,  having  by  this  time  recognized  in  tho 
woman  in  black  the  one  who  had  slioutcd  so 
roughly  to  herself  and  her  sister  on  tho  road- 
side, some  little  time  before. 

Nan  was  very  tender  in  her  manner  towards 
hor,  and  told  licr  that  she  was  her  mother.  Sho 


350 


OE^fS  OF  THE  BOO. 


said  that  long  ago,  being  in  great  trouble,  she 
)m<l  "  taken  lave  of  bcr  sinscs  and  wandered 
oir,"  and  that  when  afterwards  she  "  camo 
bacli  to  her  wit8,"  Miss  Grey  and  Peggy  had 
her  children,  and  refused  to  give  them  up ;  but 
that  now,  finding  Bessie  was  going  across  the 
sea,  slie  had  resolved  to  follow  her,  and  to  have 
both  her  children  to  herself. 

"  Why,  then,  couldn't  you  tell  this  to  our 
dear  mammy,"  asked  the  child,  "  and  not 
break  her  heart  l-y  stealing  mo  ?  " 

"  A  body  can  nivcr  stale  what's  already  her 
own,  darlin',"  replied  tuo  woman.  "  Kapo  yo 
quite  asy,  and  ye'll  see  ye  nivcr  had  sich  a 
friend  as  mysilf  afore." 

The  man,  too,  who  drove,  was  kind  and 
jovial,  and  described  America,  where  he  had 
been,  as  a  glorious  country,  in  which  it  was 
holiday  all  the  week,  and  gold  was  to  be  had 
for  taking. 

Nau  wrapped  a  large,  warm  shawl  about  the 
child,  who  soon  sobbed  herself  to  sleep,  from 
wliich  she  did  not  wake  for  hours  ;  and  then  to 
weep  anew  at  her  strange  situation. 


NEW    HOMES  IN  THE  NEW  WORLD. 


351 


at  trouble,  sho 
and  wandered 
Ja  she  "  came 
lid  Peggy  had 
them  up ;  hut 
ling  across  the 
or,  and  to  have 

3II   this  to   our 

lild,  -"  and  not 

?" 

it's  already  her 

m.    "Kapc  yo 

ivcr  had  sich  a 

was  kind  and 
L,  where  he  had 
n  which  it  was 

was  to  be  had 

shawl  about  the 
f  to  sleep,  from 
ars  ;  and  then  to 
it  ion. 


As  the  sun  rose  high,  the  party  ncarcd  tho 
wliarf,  and  the  man,  setting  down  Nan's  small 
trunk,  drove  off  to  witness  tho  sailing  of  tho 
vessel  from  a  higlit  beyond.  Leading  Marion 
by  one  hand,  and  dragging  licr  trunk  with  tho 
otlior.  Nan  pushed  and  cUiowed  licr  way 
through  tlie  crowd,  with  an  indepeudon(  ;  that 
would  have  satisfied  (ho  most  ardent  advocate 
of  woman's  ritriit  to  any  work  and  any  post. 

Bessie  was  astoinnled  by  tho  sight  of  her 
sister  and  tho  tale  of  the  coarse  woman,  but 
with  her  natural  delicacy  she  strove  to  hide 
her  anguish  from  the  rude  company  on  the 
deck.  Tlsc  Widow  McRea,  holding  fast  to  her 
own  children,  lest  Nan  might  claim  them  too, 
accused  lier  of  kidnapping  Marion,  but  her 
voice  was  soon  diowned  in  u  torrent  of  words; 
and  then  the  deck  wu'^  cleared  of  all  but  pas- 
sengers, and  tho  ship  got  under  way. 


As  soon  as  thoy  ^    re  fi/i-ly  >  /,  Nan  walked 
about  on  a  tour  cT  U?!Cov3jy,    0  see  if  there 


■'>i,naW-lt-;Jfeagr.'jS.1.K;T'i"'*"' 


352 


'  GEMS  OF  THE  BOG. 


might  not  be  some  of  her  acquaintances  on 
board.  Bessie  calmed  Marion's  foars  by  saying 
tluit  they  would  fiwd  some  Christian  hearts  in 
America  to  pity  them. 

"  Do  you  think  she's  our  mother,  Bessie  ?  " 

ayked  Marion. 

"  No,"  replied  Bessie.  "  I  think  she's  the 
body  our  dear  mammy  dreaded  so  greatly. 
But,  dear  child,  God  will  'bide  with  us  oa  sea 
as  well  as  on  laud  if  we  but  trust  Him ;  and 
we  will  trust  Him,  come  life  or  death." 

It  took  but  a  few  hours  to  consign  the 
Widow  McRca  and  the  four  girls  to  their 
bc.-ths,  where  they  spent  most  of  their  time. 
But  when  the  Atlantic  Ocean  assailed  the 
equanimity  of  Nan  O'Gormau,  ho  found  more 
than  his  match,  and  came  oil  beaten.  It 
would  have  taken  two  oceans  tossed  by  the 
wildest  storms  to  lay  licr  low,  or  to  "  unman  " 
her  to  such  a  degree  that  she  could  not  walk 
and  talk. 

At  length  the  voyage  was  over,  and  the  ship 
beat  up  the  Narrows  towards  the  harbor  of 
Now  York.    The  girls  clung  frantically  to  the 


:;-;i3;;«^i"lEf;    S-.i^Jl^- 


G. 

jquaintauces  on 
;  fears  by  saying 
•istiau  hearts  in 

other,  Bessie  ?  " 

think  she's  the 
idcd  so  greatly, 
with  us  oa  sea 
trust  Him ;  and 
•  death." 
to  consign  the 
r  girls  to  their 
t  of  their  time, 
ui  assailed  the 
,  he  found  more 

olT  beaten.  It 
a  tossed  by  the 
or  to  "  unman  " 

could  not  walk 

?or,  and  the  ship 
8  the  harbor  of 
frantically  to  the 


J\KW  UOilES  m  THE  NEW  WORLD.       353 

j)()or  widow,  lest  they  might  be  separated  from 
her;  l)iit  oa  tlie  vessel's  touching  at  Custlo 
Garden,  Nan  seized  a  hand  of  cacli,  and  dragged 
tliem  to  the  nearest  hack.  She  ordered  tlic 
driver  to  secure  her  box,  and  then  drive  them 
to  some  house  kept  by  one  of  her  own  country 
people.  Bessie  told  the  man  sliu  would  not  go 
with  this  woman,  and  Marion  reached  out  her 
arms  from  tlie  carriage  window,  calling  piti- 
fully after  the  Widow  MoRca,  But  before  the 
l)Owildered  creature  could  reply,  the  hackman 
mounted  his  box,  touclied  his  horses  with  tlie 
whij),  and  drove  off  through  the  densely 
crowded  streets. 

Nan  was  very  angry  when  she  found  that 
Marion  was  penniless,  and  vowed  revenge  on 
Paddy  Mannon  for  deceiving  her,  and  thus 
burdening  lior  with  this  child.  But  she  made 
free  use  of  the  money  she  had  taken  from  Bes- 
sie, both  to  rest  after  her  voyage,  and  to  buy 
fresh  widow's  weeds. 


Bess'o  and  Marion   made  quite  a  little  stir 


'■ngv^-snqg 


354 


GK3fS  OF  THE  BOG. 


in  the  Intelligence-office,  whither  Nan  cscortod 
thorn  on  the  third  day  after  their  arrival,  in 
search  of  nnrsc  places.  Sncli  neat,  pretty  and 
modest  little  maidens  were  not  met  wiih  every 
day  in  that  place. 

Here  they  attracted  at  once  the  attention  of  a 
fmc-looking  lady  who  was  looking  for  two  girls 
to  act  as  child's  maids  for  herself  and  sister, 
living  door  by  door. 

"  What  church  do  you  attend  ?  "  was  ono  of 
the  questions  she  put  to  them. 

"  We're  Protestants,  ma'am,"  replied  Bessie. 
*'  It  was  U)  l||(»  I'feshytoJ'iiijj  church  we  went  at 
home." 

"  liut  It's  Outholics  they'll  bo  in  this  coun- 
try, ma'am,"  oxcliiinied  Nan,  looking  resolute- 
ly, ulmost  defiantly,  at  the  lady. 

Bessie  turned  pale,  hut  collecting  herself  in 
a  moment,  she  loi/ked  imploiiiif^ly  into  the  kind 
face  before  he-,  and  said,  in  tremuhiUH  tones, 
"  I  four  Oni'.,  dear  lady,  and  Fd  never  deny  my 
faith.  Wo  are  Protestants,  like  the  dear  onoa 
who  taught  UH  to  love  and  trust  Ilim  only.  If 
you'll   look   no  farther,  but  take  us  two  witii 


turn  II  iMiWln  *i.'iw<#«lll 


MM 


NEW  HOMES  IN  THE  NEW  WORLD. 


355 


Nau  escorted 
ir  arrival,  in 
xt,  pretty  and 
et  wiili  every 

attcutiou  of  a 

for  two  girls 

[If  and  sister, 

"  was  one  of 

« 

cplicd  Bessie. 
;li  we  went  at 

in  this  conn- 
king  rosolutc- 

ing  liorscir  in 
into  the  kind 
inulouH  tones, 
ever  deny  my 
tlio  deiu-  ones 
lini  only.  If 
us  two  willi 


you,  you'll  never  repent  it,  for  we'll  be  faith- 
ful, and  the  Lord  will  bless ^ou  for  havjng  pity 
on  us." 

This  was  strange  talk  in  a  place  where  ser- 
vants wore  questioning  ladies,  and  making 
terms  for  them  to  accept.  Tlie  lady  was 
charmed  with  their  [)lcasant  manners,  and  with 
their  artless  expressions  of  trust  in  God,  and 
slio  announced  to  the  person  wlio  kept  the 
olTicc  that  her  choice  was  made. 

"  Hnt,  ma'am,"  cried  Nan,  following  her  to 
the  desk,  "  ye  can't  have  ather  of  them  unliss 
their  wages  be  paid  to  mysilf.  I'll  puffer  them 
to  have  lialf  o't  tlicn,  and  the  other  half  will 
go  to  support  their  poor  widdy  mother." 

"  But,  my  good  woman,"  said  the  lady, 
"  you  look  stronger  than  either  of  them.  Why 
not  take  a  place  and  support  yourself?  " 

"  Och,  dear  lady,  I'm  a  lone  widdy,  don't  ye 
sec?    The  Widdy  Hl.eelian." 

"  I  know  no  reason  why  widows  should  not 
labor  as  well  as  other  women,  if  they  have 
sirength  to  do  it,"  said  the  lady,  who  was  as 
resolute  as  herself. 


•3^... 


Wiwtnowii 


"^flS??" 


^ 


iwi 


m 


OEMS  OF  THE  BOO. 


"  Will,  will,  I  must  git  a  bit  over  tho  sea- 
feclin',  and  hunt  two  or  thrco  cousins  first," 
replied  Nan  ;  "  and  now  if  ye'll  only  take  them 
off  my  hands  at  once,  I'll  sind  tlicir  box  after 
them,  and  visit  them  once  a  week  — small 
consolation  -"  and  shaking  all  three  cordially 
by  tho  hand,  she  saw  them  walk  off  together, 
and  then  seated  herself  to  make  new  acquain- 
tances. 

Mrs.  Maxwell  and  her  sister  were  charmed 
with  their  neat  little  nurses  who  were  capalAe 
and  patient  at  their  work,  and  who  never  lost 
an  opportunity  to  teach  or  sing  some,  useful 
lesson  to  their  little  charges,  of  whom  they 
soon  became  very  fond. 

On  her  second  motherly  visit,  Bessie  being  in 
the  park  with  tho  children.  Nan  was  admitted 
into  Mrs.  Maxwell's  sitting-room,  where  she  at 
once  began  relating  her  life's  trials  to  the  lady. 
"  Och,  lady  dear,  it's  a  i'oarrul  thing  for  a 
woman  to  come  down  from  f;nat  prosperity,  as 
mysilf  have  done.     If  yo  ^'onld  know  my  fate,      j 
yo'd  cry  tho  full  o'  yor  two  hands  o'  tears.     I      ! 
had  a  lovely   cottage   with   a   larm  to't,  and 


over  tlio  sea- 
cousius  first," 
)uly  take  them 
ihcir  box  after 

week  —  small 
three  cordially 
Ik  off  together, 
3  new  acquaiu- 

•  were  charmed 
10  were  capal)lo 

who  never  lost 
ig  some  useful 

of  whom  they 

Bessie  being  in 
111  was  admitted 
m,  where  she  at 
•ials  to  the  lady. 
rFul  thing  for  a 
at  prosperity,  as 
d  know  ray  fate, 
iiids  o"  tears.  I 
I   farm  to't,  and 


NEW  nOMES  IX   TIIK  NEW    WORLD.       357 

cows,  and  pigs,  and  a  donkey,  and  ducks,  and 
goose,  and  bins,  and  a  shilf  full  o'  red  and 
green  delf  ware,  and  feather  bids,  and  a  row 
o'  milkpans  as  would  reach  from  here  to  where 
our  ship  lauded,"  —  a  distance  of  about  four 
miles.  "And  och,  my  heart!  the  husband  I 
had !  He  was  the  ilegiutest  man  in  all  thim 
parts.  He  was  high  and  stout,  and  had  the 
finest  leg  for  a  long  stocking  in  all  the 
country.  Och,  but  he  was  the  man  for  a 
beauty  !  " 

"  And  how  long  has  ho  been  dead  ?  "  asked 
Mrs.  Maxwell. 

"  Dead  ?  Indado,  ma'am,  it's  not  dead  at  all 
tliat  he  is,"  cried  Nan,  intent  only  on  making 
out  a  good  story. 

♦'  But  you  told  mo  you  were  a  widow,"  said 
the  lady. 

Nan's  memory  had  failed  her  for  a  moment, 
liiit,  kIio  was  not  one  to  give  up  her  point. 
"  So  lie  is  dead  to  me,  dear,"  she  sobbed  out, 
'•  liut  he's  live  enough  to  the  rest  o'  the  world. 
And  if  a  woman  wears  wades  for  a  man  that's 
gone  peaceable  into  his  grave,  much  more  mo 


"rmtnim^yAmx'lX^;: 


358 


GEMS  OF  THE  BOO. 


that's  lost  mine  a  worse  way."  And  moving 
her  chair  close  to  Mrs.  Maxwell,  she  whis- 
pered, confidentially,  "  lie  turned  mo  out  o' 
doors,  dear,  and  ray  lovely  childer,  and  there's 
an  evil  woman  now  enjoyin'  all  my  good 
things,  —  my  farm,  and  my  iligaut  cups  and 
saucers,  and  nine  skeins  o'  grey  yarn  I  spun, 
and  —  and  —  and  my  liusland." 

"  But  your  daughters  speak  "^ery  tenderly 
of  their  father,  and  tell  mo  how  ho  used  to 
pray  for  them,"  said  tl»e  lady. 

"  Och,  dear  heart,"  cried  Nan, "  they  liko 
1  im  hecausc  there's  much  of  his  evil  natur  in 
thirasclves.  Didn't  ye  see  how  mane  they 
^rero,  not  wantiu'  mo  to  have  all  their 
wages  ?  " 

"  They  ought  not  to  givo  you  even  half," 
said  the  lady.  *'  I  shall  insist  on  their  keeping 
moat  of  their  wages,  and  you  must  go  to  work 
yourself." 

*'  Och,"  cried  Nan,  "  and  what  do  you  think 
I  camo  hero  for  ?  I  could  live  hy  work  at 
homo.  I  had  a  father's  house  full  of  plinty, 
and  would  niver  ha'  left  it  onlr  that  thoso  two 


*-,,,,,  -. 


CS^I«-(«r.-lM«*** 


»**-•»  :]j'iij«wlwiBt» 


■m 


KEW  HOMES  IN  Tim  NEW   WORLD. 


859 


Lnd  moving 
[,  she  whis- 
[  mo  out  o' 
,  and  there's 
11  my  good 
it  cups  and 
irarn  I  spun, 

sry  tenderly 
ho  used  to 

, "  they  like 

5vil  natur  in 

mane  they 

0    all    their 

even  half," 
heir  keeping 
t  go  to  work 

do  you  think 

by  work  at 

ill  ofplinty, 

at  thoso  two 


evil-minded  girls  ran  off  and  hid  in  the  ship, 
and  I  liad  to  follow  to  save  thim  from  destruc- 
tion intirely  ;  "  and  the  virtuous  creature  drew 
a  heavy  sigh. 

"  Well,  I  advise  you  to  go  to  work,  and 
come  once  in  a  month  or  so  to  visit  them,"  said 
Mis.  Maxwell. 

"  Ojice  a  month,  is  it  ?  "  cried  Nan,  ris- 
ing ;  "  indado  they'll  not  'bide  where  I  can't 
come  in  and  out  when  I  plazes,  and  call  for 
money,  too  !  "  And  dashing  out  of  the  room, 
slio  sUmmed  tlio  door  behind  her  in  a  way 
that  told  poorly  for  her  gentle  blood. 

Tliat  evening,  after  the  little  ones  were 
asleep,  BIrs.  Maxwell,  as  was  her  cilstom,  went 
into  the  nursery  to  seo  that  all  was  right,  and 
there  she  found  her  little  nurse  in  tears. 

"  Wliy,  Bessie,  what's  tho  matter,  child  ?  " 
she  asked. 

"  O,  ma'am,"  cried  tho  girl,  "  there's  a 
heavy  trouble  lying  on  my  heart,  and  I'm 
afraid  I'll  die  in  this  strango  laud,  and  leave 
my  darliu'  sister  alone." 


*, 
u 


-'sm>m!3ms^T^gg^r 


mmmm 


seo 


GEMS  OF  THE  BOO. 


"  Bessie,  I'm  sure  there's  something  wrong 
between  you  and  your  motlier,  and  I  insist  on 
knowing  what  it  is  ;  I  will  protect  you,  if  you 
are  doing  right,"  said  the  lady,  kindly. 

*'  0,  ma'am,  when  we  were  in  the  park,  she 
followed  us  and  bid  us  both  leave  our  places, 
and  when  I  refused,  she  struck  me  before  all 
the  nurses  and  the  children.  Oh  please  give 
her  all  the  wages  if  she  but  let  us  'bide  with 
you  till  our  father  find  us,  —  the  darlin'  man ! 
This  is  just  the  hour  he'll  be  prayin'  for  us. 
And  our  mammy  too  will  be  singin'  —  oh  no, 
she'll  never  sing  more  till  she  finds  us  • —  I'm 
sure  o'  that." 

"  Bessie,  is  this  woman  your  mother  ? " 
asked  Mrs.  Maxwell.  "  She  neither  speaks 
nor  acts  as  if  she  had  brought  you  up." 

"  Oh,  ma'am,  she  said  if  I'd  tell  one  word 
about  it,  she'd  put  us  both  in  a  nunneiy  where 
our  father  would  never  find  us !  She  never 
brought  us  up  —  you  see,  ma'am,  we  do  not 
speak  Irish,  like  that." 

"  You  are  in   safe  hands,  my  child,"  said 


1 


■f»J«>'B"*!*''^'J'  ■.'-'fr^ 


..^^^tffm  'iJ^'^om-.^ixmsaiimmimm- 


otliing  wrong 
ind  I  insist  on 
ct  you,  if  you 
indly. 

tlio  park,  sho 
ve  our  places, 
mo  before  all 
)h  please  give 
;  us  'bide  with 
darlin'  man! 
rayin'  for  us. 
igin'  —  oh  no, 
inds  us  ■: —  I'm 

ur  mother  ? " 
leither  speaks 
1  up." 

tell  one  word 
lunneiy  where 
I !  She  never 
m,  we  do  not 


NEW  HOMES  17  THE  XEW    WOULD.        3G1 

Mrs.  Maxwell,  will*  tears  in  her  eyes.  "  Tell 
mo  the  wliolo  story,  and  Mr.  Maxwell  will  pro- 
tect you  as  if  you  were  liis  own." 

Thus  encouraged,  Bessie  told  all  she  knew 
of  herself  and  the  Sheehans,  and  the  little  sho 
knew  of  the  woman  who  professed  to  be  their 
mother. 

Mr.  Maxwell  at  once  wrote  to  Mr.  Murray, 
assuring  him  that  God  had  sent  these  good 
ciiildren  to  friends  who  would  guard  them  well 
till  their  father  came  or  sent  for  them. 

When  Nan  called  again,  Mrs.  Maxwell  re- 
fused to  see  her,  telling  her  that  her  husband 
was  now  the  protector  of  the  girls,  and  would 
take  care  of  them  till  their  father's  arrival. 

While  waiting  for  a  reply  to  the  letter,  Mrs. 
Maxwell  and  her  sister  did  all  they  could  to 
encourage  and  comfort  the  little  exiles,  who 
found  it  possible  to  be  happy  oven  under  such 
painful  circumstances. 


r  child,"  said 


n/mmmsmr- 


'i*^'j-m^im^tu.9iim*'^'w 


m^ma-momi^mU: 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 
paddy's  wisdom. 

PEGGY'S  love  for  the  cliildreu  whom  God 
had  placed  in  her  care,  was  truly  a  mo- 
ther's love ;  and  none  but  a  mother  can  im- 
agine tlie  anguish  which  at  times  filled  her 
soul  while  John  was  busy  settling  his  af- 
fairs to  follow  them.  But  scarcely  did  that 
anguish  come,  before  the  "great  peace" 
would  roll  over  her  spirit,  and  she  would  see 
her  darlings,  not  with  her  enemy,  but  in  the 
hand  and  under  the  wing  of  the  orphan's  God. 
She  applied  herself  to  her  work  and  to  her 
religious  duties  with  a  calm  and  cheerful  spir- 
it, wliich  those  only  know  whose  hearts  are 
fixed  on  God,  and  who  have  entered  into  au 
everlasting  covenant  with  Him. 

The  knitting  and  the   singing  went   on   as 
usual  at  the  sunset  hour ;  but  her  guests  were 


mm 


PADDY'S   WISDOM. 


3G3 


1  whom  God 
I  truly  a  mo- 
ther can  i  ra- 
tes filled  her 
tliiig  his  af- 
cely  did  that 
;reat  peace " 
iho  would  see 
ly,  but  ill  the 
jrphau's  God. 

• 

c   and  to  her 

cheerful  spir- 

30   hearts   are 

tered  iuto  au 

;  went   on   as 
r  guests  were 

362 


leaving  one  by  one,  as  their  ftxmilies  dcscrtod 
tlioir  miserable  homes  for  better  ones  over  tlio 
sou.  Ilor  work  was  going  before  her,  and 
thoreforo  sha  felt  less  reluctance  at  leaving 
Ireland  tlian  if  her  field  were  growing  about 
her.  • 

As  the  preparations  were  going  on,  John 
suid,  «  And  now,  my  jewel,  I  must  spake  to 
ye  o'  tlie  Maid  o'  Longford.  I  suppose  ye 
couldn't  sell  her  ?  " 

"No  more  than  I  could  sell  one  'o  my 
ohildren,"  cried  Peggy.  "She's  more  tlian 
just  a  good  cow  to  me  ;  she  was  the  kind 
gift  o'  the  darlin'  mother,  and  has  always 
seemed  one  o'  ourselves.  When  I  was  in  sor- 
row, her  eyes  always  looked  sad  aii  if  she  had 
the  power  o'  pityin'  me ;  and  she  loved  me, 
too.  Siie's  not  young,  the  poor  dear,  more 
than  ourselves,  but  she'll  be  useful  several 
years  yet.  So  I've  resolved  to  give  hor  to  Mr. 
Murray;  and  should  his  family  die,  or  follow 
us  over  the  sea,  to  have  her  left  for  the  nest 
minister  that  takes  his  place,  and  always  to 
'bide  on  that  land." 


rfl«<*.WA«.,Ti»  .-jiUiitt"}!,(»(i 


■4'.. 


1 


^am^M 


tmmM 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


fe 


o 


\ 


J" 


/. 


r/j 


<C2 


1.0 


I.I 


1.25 


150     "'"^^ 

•^  IIM 

In  m 


1.4 


M 
1.6 


Photographic 

Sciences 
Corporation 


23  WIST  MAIN  STRUT 

WIBSTIR.N.Y.  M580 

(716)  173-4503 


^ 


Va 


A 


CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHIVI/ICIVIH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microreproductions  /  Institut  Canadian  de  microreproductions  historiques 


^  .^.^  )^lteiki<aU^^  C'.  J> 


'"J    ^ 


364 


GEMS  OF  THE  DOa. 


"  That's  wise  indado  !  "  cried  John.  "  Elder 
Peter  will  buy  Silvcrhoni,  and  will  bo  as  tinder 
o'  her  as  I  have  beon." 

"  I  hope  thin  he'll  not  fade  hor  on  granite 
or  marble ! "  exclaimed  Paddy,  who  had  just 
entered  the  cottage.  "I  believe  that's  what 
he  ates  himsilf  and  that  gives  him  yon  stony 
look." 

"And  now  tnat  we're  on  the  priparations, 
Paddy,"  said  his  mistress,  "  I  beg  ye  not  to 
take  thim  clothes  o'  the  old  masther's  to 
America.  The  people  that  know  ye  laugh 
at  ye  and  no  more ;  but  in  America,  where 
nono  wears  short  clothes,  they'll  think  ye'ro  au 
idiot.  Go  to  the  workhouse  and  give  thim 
to  old  Diunis.  Tlioy'U  fit  him,  and  kape  him 
warm  many  a  winter  if  ho  nades  them." 

"  Och !  but  what  fine  thoughts  are  always 
comin'  into  yor  hoad  and  out  o'  yer  mouth, 
darlin' !  "  exclaimed  Paddy.  "  And  won't  the 
old  man  dance,  spite  o'  his  rheumatics,  whiu 
he  sees  himsilf  in  thim  fine  clothes!"  and 
springing  up  the  ladder  that  led  to  hi«  loft, 
Paddy  tied  the  clothes  up  iu  a  bundle  and  de- 


i-fc  MiifiTriV-"-* 


d  John.  "  Elder 
I  will  bo  as  tindor 

lo  her  on  granite 
dy,  who  had  just 
liovo  that's  what 
es  him  yon  stony 

the  priparations, 
I  beg  ye  not  to 
>ld    masther's    to 

know  yo  laugh 
I  America,  where 
r'll  think  ye're  an 
9  and  give  thim 
im,  and  kape  him 
ies  them." 
aghts  are  always 
lit  o'  yer  mouth, 

"  And  won't  the 
rheumatics,  whiu 
e  clothes!"  and 
,  led  to  \m  loft, 
a  bundle  aud  de- 


y-. 


PADDY'S  WISDOSr. 

parted,  much  to  the  relief  of  Peggy,  who  had' 
feared  strong  resistance  on  his  part.  Wo  are 
Bocry  to  say,  however,  that  he  wont  no  farther 
than  t!io  cow-house,  where  ho  stowed  ihe  bun- 
dle away  among  his  treasures  in  a 
chest ; "  and  then  sat  down  long  enough  to  go 
to  the  workhouse  aud  back  again,  that  his  mis- 
tress might  think  he  had  been  off  on  the  benevo- 
lent errand.  Then  he  went  into  the  cottage 
for  a  good  supper. 

On  the  evening  before  their  departure,  the  cot- 
tage was  filled  with  weeping  neighbors,  nearly 
all  of  whom  were  cither  too  poor  or  too  old  to 
emigrate.  While  Peggy,  in  gentle  tones,  was 
giving  them  her  parting  advice  ani  blessing, 
Master  Timmy  walked  in,  radiant  with  excite- 
ment, y-  ''■■''  — .  ■''■•.-'■:.■''•   ■  -  '-<■  i  "•':■• 

"The  battle's  won  without  blood,  Misther 
Shechan !  "  he  cried.  I'  got  twenty  pounds  o' 
money,  and  the  free  consint  o'  the  Elder  to  oo- 
company  yo.  When  he  saw  I  would  go,  he 
gave  consint  to  save  me  from  the  sin  o'  disobe- 
dience, the  dear  man ;  aud  he'll  soon  follow  ; 
for  nather  he  nor  the  loviii'  mother  will  brathe 


feii 


366 


OEMS  OF  THE  BOO. 


long  out  o'  sight  o'  me.  I'll  show  tliem  what 
a  strong  arm  can  do  when  it  has  a  chance  to 
work.  I'll  just  put  myself  to  the  granite,  — 
that's  the  fine  material  to  lay  out  a  lad's  mus- 
cle on.  It  would  :  a'  been  fine,  indeed,  if  I, 
after  I'd  stirred  up  half  the  lads  between  here 
and  Limerick  to  go  to  America,  had  been  forced 
to  'bide  in  the  chimney-corner  myself." 

Paddy  was  leaning  on  his  elbow,  looking  out 
of  the  casement,  in  rather  a  pensive  mood  for 
him.  He  thought  these  remarks  of  Timmy's 
rather  personal ;  so,  turning  round  abruptly  ho 
said,  "  Plio,  yer  nonsinse,  lad !  Ye  talk  like 
the  small  child  ye  are !  The  arth,  and  the  arth 
alone,  are  the  fine  material  for  a  man  to  spind 
his  stringth  on." 

«  I  disagree  with  you,  old  fellow,"  said  Tim- 
my.  "  Granite  is  harder,  and  so  is  a  nobler 
work  than  the  arth.  Sure  ony  maid  can  hoo 
potatoes,  if  she  but  have  good  health  and  com- 
mon sinse  ;  but  put  the  best  o'  thim  on  a  huga 
block  o'  granite,  and  bid  her  hew  out  a  monu- 
ment or  an  ornamental  gate-post,  and  see  what 
work  she'll  make  on't!     Sotting  the  maids 


:.■:*.• : 


ihow  tliem  what 
lias  a  clianco  to 
the  grauito,  — 
lut  a  lad's  raus- 
iie,  indeed,  if  I, 
ds  between  hero 
had  been  forced 
myself." 

bow,  looking  out 
3nsive  mood  for 
irks  of  TiraiPf 's 
)und  abruptly  ho 
1 !  Yo  talk  liko 
■th,  and  the  arth 
r  a  man  to  spind 

3II0W,"  said  Tim- 
d  so  is  a  nobler 
ly  maid  can  hoc 

health  and  cora- 
'  thim  on  a  huga 

hew  out  a  monu- 
ost,  and  see  what 
itting  the  maids 


PADDY' 8  WISDOM. 

aside,  ye  can  put  an  idiot  on  his  knees,  and 
lie  can  pull  weeds  as  well  as  a  giant  or  a  col- 
lege-lamed man  ;  but  set  him  to  liewing  the 
crowned  falcon  —  the  coat-o'-arms  on  the  new 
door  for  the  Harplcy  tomb,  —  and  see  what  a 
fine  work  he'll  make  on't !  " 

"  And  so  would  Elder  Pctor  made  as  fine  work 
on't  as  the  poor  fool,  afore  he'd  larned,"  replied 
Paddy.  "  Ah  Timmy,  lad,  the  arth  la  the  mO' 
terial  for  an  honest  man  to  delve  in!" 

"The  arth's  filthy,"  said  Timmy,  to  draw 
Paddy  out ;  "  a  man  can  never  wrirk  in  it 
witjjout  defiling  himself;  but  the  stone  is  as 
pure  as  the  sky  above  us,  Paddy." 

"List  to  me,  lad.  The  good  God  knows 
which  is  the  finest  thing  for  man,  surely; 
and  the  dear,  dead  Misthross  used  to  read  to  us 
that  when  lie  made  his  first  man,  and  had 
ivory  thing  afore  him  to  sclict  from,  didn't  he 
pass  by  the  stones,  the  jewels,  and  the  gold 
and  the  silver  and  tho  tin,  and  mal  i  him  a  fino 
garden,  and  put  him  into  it  to  till  it  and  to 
dress  it?  That  same  showed,  as  Mammy  Hon- 
ey said,  what  Him  as  made  the  world  thought 


nm 


f 


T 


866 


OEMS  OF  TBE  BOO. 


—  that  farmin's  the  noblest  work  at  all ;  and 
while  I'm  doui'  what  the  grand  jintleman 
Adam  did  with  his  own  hands  —  him  that 
owned  the  whole  world  for  his  farm  —  I'll  feel 
quite  honored.  And  yor  Protestant  Bible  tells 
too,  aboot  a  man  that  wint  out  to  sow,  and 
about  a  husbandman  that  bad  a  vineyard ;  but 
will  ye  show  me  the  place  where's  mintioned 
a  man  that  stood  ho.ckin'  away  at  a  gravestone 
or  a  gate-post  ?  Yo'll  not  fiud  it  at  all." 

Timmy  was  a  little  crest-fallen  by  Paddy's 
reasoning,  but  laughed  it  oflfby  saying,  "  Paddy, 
the  church  was  cljated  when  ye  were  put  on  a 
farm  to  work.  Ye  should  be  aither  a  priest  or 
a  parson,  with  all  the  tine  thoughts  ye  have. 
Wliat  war  ye  thinkiu'  so  grave  about  when  I 
came  in,  with  yor  head  out  o'  the  casement, 
and  yor  eyes  lookm'  up  at  the  clouds  ?  " 

"  Well,  Timmy,  lad,  it  war  fuio  thoughts  I 
had  ontirely  yon  time !  I  war  lookin'  at  the 
moon,  and  thinkiu'  how  ueglected-like  she 
war,  and  how  light  sot  by  o'  most  people. 
Hapos  thinks  a  dale  o'  the  sun,  bekase  he 
stares  so  fierce  down  on  us,  and  makes  such  a 


.rtj'.ii-S...iii    SiVi' 


~..p^  - 


*w 


fk  at  all ;  and 
and  jintleman 
Is  —  him  that 
ima  — I'll  feel 
tant  Bible  tells 
t  to  sow,  and 
vineyard ;  but 
re's  mintioned 
it  a  gravestone 
,t  all." 

en  by  Paddy's 
yiiig,  "  Paddy, 

wore  put  on  a 
ther  a  priest  or 
ghts  ye  have. 

about  when  I 

the  casement, 
3uds  ? " 
ue  thoughts  I 
lookin'  at  tho 
ectod-like  sho 

most  people, 
un,  bokase  he 

makes  such  a 


PADDY'S  WISDOM. 


369 


show  o'  himsilf.  And  bekase  tho  moon  only 
throws  a  kind  smile  on  us,  they  think  little  o' 
her.  But  I'll  till  ye  what  I  think,  —  it's  a  com- 
parison like ;  the  sun  is  like  frinds  that's 
very  lovin'  and  helpful  whin  we  don't  nade 
them.  He  shines  in  the  daylight  whin  we 
could  jest  get  along  quite  fine  witliout  him. 
But  the  dear  little  moon,  she's  like  a  friend 
in  nade  ;  she  shines  when  all's  dark,  whin  but 
for  her  we'd  wander  astray,  or  fall  down  into  a 
ditch  and  break  our  head.  So  away  with  yer 
sun,  that  only  gives  light  whin  we've  enough 
without  him ;  and  up  with  tho  moon  that's 
saved  many  a  fine  life !  " 

"  But  Paddy,  man,"  cried  Timmy,  "  there'd 
be  no  light  at  all  in  the  moon,  but  only  for  the 
sun.  The  astronomers  say  the  moon  gits  her 
light  from  the  sun." 

"  Then  they  lies,"  cried  Paddy.  "  Don't  ye 
think  I've  as  many  eyes  as  these  'stronomies 
has  ?  And  can't  I  see  that  tho  sun's  no  where 
about  to  be  givin' her  light?  lie's  gouo  on- 
tirely  out  o'  tho  way  afore  the  moon  rises  at 
all!     It's  a  great    trick  wise  men   has  got 

34 


-■-,!sxS5|n| 


370 


??^!SP?fi?H^^S!?r' 


GEMS  OF  THE  BOG. 


o'  these  cla>s,  tcUiu'  such  stufif  and  thiukia' 
they'll  make  onlarned  folks  bclavo  'em  agin 
their  wits ;  but  I'm  uot  one  o'  the  fools  that'll 
do  it.  I'll  bclave  me  own, eyes  and  me  own 
sinses  afore  I'll  belavo  Mr.  Murray  himself, — 
'dado  I  will.    One  o'  his  boys  was  foolin'  mo 

* 

as  wo  walked  home  together  from  the  post- 
'  office,  one  night,  by  tellin'  me  that  some  o'  the 
Btars  In)  pointed  out  was  made  o'  dippers  ;  — 
as  if  he  thought  I  was  fool  enough  to  belave 
him !    Dippers,  indade ! " 


♦ ' , 


and  thiiikin' 
avo  'em  agin 
le  fools  that'll 
1  and  me  own 
ray  himself, — 
v^as  foolin'  mo 
from  the  post- 
lat  some  o'  the 

o'  dippers ;  — 
ugh  to   belavo 

,-  .:.^-.:^-  ::'::.;  ?«»: 


:   *ft- 


CHAPTER  XXXm. 


A  JOYFUL  MEETING. 


IT  was  a  bright  day  in  the  early  autumn,  and 
the  trees,  in  hues  of  gorgeous  beauty,  made 
the  park  a  scene  of  gladness  to  the  eye  weary 
of  the  tame  sights  of  every-day  life.  Nature 
and  the  little  children  were  out  on  a  holiday 
together. 

As  the  young  Sheehan  girls  drew  their  baby 
charges  slowly  along  under  a  row  of  bright 
elms,  they  noticed,  in  a  corner,  a  group  of 
poor-looking  people,  who  seemed  to  be  trying 
to  hide,  one  behind  the  other,  from  the  obser- 
vation they  were  attracting^ 

"Look  at  yon  poor  things,  Marion,"  said 
Bessie.  "  I'm  sure  tliey're  new  off  the  sliip, 
and  are  suffering  from  the  sport  the  lads  are 
making  of  their  old-fashionod  Irish  clothes. 
Let's  cross  this  path,  and  give  them  a  hand  and 

371 


I 


372 


OEMS  OF  THE  BOO. 


a  kind  word.  Maybe  some  o'  thein  are  homc< 
less  and  friendless.  And  it  may  be  a  long  day 
before  they  find  such  friends  as  God  raised  up 
fortis  at  the  very  first.  Pcriiaps  there's  no 
pure  hearts  at  home  prayin'  for  them,  either." 

And  the  little  nurses  drew  their  baby-car- 
riages towards  the  forlorn-looking  group. 

. "  You've  just  come  over,  poor  thing,"  said 
Bessie,  k'ndly,  to  the  one  woman  of  the  party. 
"  What  part  o'  poor  Ireland  are  you  from  ?  " 

"  Coonty  Kirry,  me  and  <Ae«e,"  she  replied, 
pointing  to  three  rough-looking  fellows  on  the 
bench  beside  her.  "  Thim  two  is  from  Clare, 
and  yon  man  with  his  back  to  us,  —  him  iu 
the  breeches  and  the  huge  coat,  tyin'  up  his 
brogues,  he's  from  Limerick  or  some  other 
place." 

The  girls  naturally  looked  at  "yon  man," 
who  was  "tyin'  his  brogues,"  when  in  an 
instant  Marion  dropped  the  tongue  of  her  wag- 
on, and  rushing  towards  him,  screamed  out, 
"0,  Paddy  Mannon,  this  can  never  be  you, 
you  darlin'  old  man ! "  And  forgetting  that 
there  was  any  one  else  in  the  park,  the  child 


A  JOYFUL  MEETINQ. 


873 


n  are  home* 
)0  a  long  day 
ad  raised  up 
)S  there's  no 
em,  either." 
eir  baby-car- 
group, 
thing,"  said 
of  the  party. 
II  from  ?  " 

she  replied, 
Hows  on  the 

from  Clare, 
18,  —  him  iu 
tyiii'  up  his 

some  other 

*  yon  man," 
when  in  an 
I  of  her  wag- 
reamed  out, 
sver  be  you, 
rgetting  that 
[-k,  the  child 


threw  her  arms  round  the  neck  of  the  rough 
old  emigrant,  and  wept  aloud  for  joy.  Bessie, 
too,  put  her  arms  about  liiru  and  kissed  him, 
and  called  him  "  a  darliu',  kind  old  creatur'," 
and  clapped  her  hands  and  laughed  for  joy,  all 
unconscious,  for  the  moment,  of  the  crowd  of 
idlers  they  wore  attracting. 

"  And  wlicre  are  mammy,  and  father,  and 
all  who- came  with  ye  ?  And  will  ye  take  us  to 
them  now  ?  And  how  long  were  ye  on  Mie 
sea  ?  "  These  and  many  other  questions  chased 
each  other  from  their  lips  before  the  overjoyed 
Paddy  could  get  an  opportunity  to  tell  them 
that  Peggy  was  "  watching  the  boxes "  while 
he  and  John  were  off  searching  for  th«m. 

«'Ye  see,  my  darlin's,  yer  father  had  the 
paper  with  Misther  Mixwill's  place  wrote  on 
it,  so  I  had  to  trust  my  mimory.  That  failed 
me,  and  I've  been  hours  sarchin'  could  I  find 
ye.  If  I  rung  at  one  door,  I  rung  at  tin-thou- 
sand, kapin'  these  poor  people  on  the  shide- 
walk,  o'  course,  — not  to  be  lettin'  thimwalk 
up  jintlemen's  steps,  — and  yet  not  a  body  in 


\-r,m^miiiiisimiitmm 


t  iE  ^ 


t- 


874 


GEMS  OF  THE  BOO. 


all  Ameriky  seemed  over  to  ha'  heerd  o'  yer 
comiii'  at  al'.." 

"And  wl.o  are  these  witli  you,  Paddy?" 
asked  Bessie.  , 

"Och,  dear,  they're  poor  innocent  things 
that  come  over  in  the  ship  with  us  ;  and  as 
they  were  quite  ignorant  o'  the  ways  of  a 
strange  country,  I  was  civil  enough  to  take 
thim  round  with  me  to  show  thim  tjie  fiue 
sights,  poor  things !  " 

"  But  O,  Paddy,  why  did  mammy  ever  let 
you  bring  those  fearful  lookiu'  clothes  with 
ye  ?  "  asked  Bessie.  . 

"She  don't  know  I  have  them  on  at  all, 
dear,  but  thinks  old  Dinnis  is  jist  now  orna- 
minted  with  them  at  the  work-house!  How 
could  I  iver  come  to  a  strange  place,  jist  like 
any  common  laborin'  man  ?  I  resolved  thesy 
should  see  for  once  that  I  had  fine  clothes,  and 
that  a  respictable  man  bewilled  thim  to  me,  if 
I  uiver  wore  thim  again ;  and  I  think  I  niver 
will,  ather,  for  the  lads  is  hootin'  and  howlin' 
after  me  at  ivery  turn  o'  the  road." 


tfc 


heerd  o'  yer 

u,  Paddy?" 

>cent  things 

us  ;  and  as 

ways  of  a 

igh  to  take 

im  tlie  fiue 

ny  ever  let 
clothes  with 

1  on  at  all, 
:  now  orna- 
)use !  How 
ce,  jist  like 
solved  they 
slothes,  and 
m  to  me,  if 
link  I  niver 
nd  howliu' 


A  JOYFUL  MEETING. 


875 


«'  Haste  back,  Paddy,"  said  Marion,  "  and 
tell  father  and  mammy  that  America's  the 
loveliest  land  on  the  whole  arth  ;  and  that  the 
people,  all  that  we've  seen  yet,  are  just  angels. 
Don't  stop  to  walk,  dear  man,  but  go  on  to 
yonder  broad  street,  and  there  take  a  car  to 
your  left,  and  pay  sixpence  each,  and  it  will 
land  ye  safe  at  the  placis  you're  stopping  in." 

So  Paddy  stirred  up  his  weary  party,  and 
dragging  his  wooden-soled  brogues  along,  lum- 
bered up  the  gravel  walk,  followed  by  his  un- 
couth shipmates,  who  evidently  regarded  him 
as  a  man  "  born  for  a  leader." 

But  the  girls  were  not  done  with  him  yet ; 
and  Marion,  after  feasting  her  homesick  eyes 
on  his  awkward  figure  for  a  moment,  called 
out,  "  Paddy,  I'nv  so  thankful  you're  all  safe ' 
in  this  dear  country  ;  you  won't  have  to  work 
so  hard  here  for  stirabout  and  herring." 

Paddy  walked  back  towards  them,  wiping 
away  his  tears  with  the  sleeve  of  hit  coat. 
"Dears,"  he  said  mournfully,  "I  used  to 
think  Ameriky  all  the  hiven  I'd  iver  ask  for, 
but  now  Pm  here,  the  heart  is  as  heavy  and 


i!    I 


376 


GEMS  OF  THE  BOO. 


cold  as  a  stone  in  my  brist.  I've  lefl  the 
bones  o'  Meg  and  little  Pat  —  him  as  war 
Johnny  Shoehan  —  behind  me  alone.  When  I 
was  there  I  use  to  go  and  sit  down  by  their 
cold  bed  and  mend  my  clothes  and  talk  to 
thim ;  but  I  can  uiver  do  that  in  this  fine 
place."  ,^  ,, 

"  Padvly,"  said  Bessie,  "  I  haven't  asked  you 
how  ye  left  all  the  friends  in  Killyrooke  and 
Cloynmally,  —  Mr.  Murray's  family,  and  —  and 
—  and  Eider  Peter,  too ;  I  hope  he  was  well  ? " 

"  All's  well,  dear,  and  partic'lar  the  Elder. 
He'e  thrivin'  tine  on  the  stones  he  ates, 
atid  growin'  every  flay  harder  and  grayer," 
answered  Paddy,  smiling  through  his  tears. 

"  And  Timmy,  I  hope  he's  obedient,  and 
will  'bide  his  father's  will  about  leaving 
home?" 

Paddy  dropped  his  head  mournfully,  and 
made  no  reply. 

"  There  was  nothing  wrong  there,  surely  ? 
Timmy  was  living  when  you  loft  ?  "  she  asked, 
in  surprise  at  Paddy's  manner. 

"  Well,  dear  child,"  cried  Faddy,  "  ho  wa$ 


H 


've  left  the 
litn  as  war 
le.  When  I 
>wn  by  their 
and  talk  to 
iu  this  fine 

I't  asked  you 
lyrooke  and 
',  and  —  and 
was  well  ? " 
r  the  Elder. 
3s  he  atcs, 
id  grayer," 
lis  tears, 
edieut,  and 
>ut    leaving 

nfuUy,   and 

>re,  surely? 
'  she  asked, 

y,  '<ho  wa$ 


A  JOTFUL  MEETINO. 


877 


living  when  we  sailed  ;  but  Timmy  will  never 
cross  the  sea  to  America." 

"  VfnAJmt  living  and  that  was  all?  "  asked 
Bessie.  "  What  ailed  my  poor  old  playmate, 
Paddy  ?  " 

Paddy  put  his  handkerchief  to  his  eyes,  and 
turned  his  back  on  her,  saying,  "  Now  don't 
break  my  heart  with  quistions,  darliu' ;  whin 
ye  come  to  us  your  mammy  will  revalo  it  all 
to  ye." 

Bessie  wanted  to  hear  no  more  ;  so  she  said, 
*'  Go,  now,  for  yer  friends  are  weary  waiting, 
and  we'll  find  you  before  many  hours." 

Paddy's  grief  suddenly  gave  way  to  gladness,* 
and  he  exclaimed,  "  Och,  but  I  forgot  to  tell  ye 
that  I  found  a  kin  o'  mine  ou  the  ship  —  one 
Teddy  Flask." 

"  Who  is  he  ?  I  never  hoard  of  him,"  said 
Bessie.         ■':'*.-■" '■z^'^''  ' -"VP^-'" 

"  Well,  he's  ather  a  cousin  to  me,  or  I'm  a 
cousin  to  him,  I  don't  jist  mind  which,"  re- 
plied Paddy.  *'  But  tell  me  where's  Nan  ? 
My  heart's  full  o'  what  PU  do  to  her,"  he 
added. 


373 


OJiVS  OF  THE  BOO. 


"  Paddy,  go  on  now,  and  we'll  toll  you  all  at 
night,"  said  Boss  io.  "  Our  time  has  come  to 
bo  at  homo." 

When  the  little  nurses  reached  Mr.  Max> 
well's  thoy  found  their  father  waiting  them. 
Tho  joyful  moeting  was  almost  as  grateful  to 
Mrs.  Maxwell  as  to  themselves,'  for  she  had 
now  heard  all  their  story  from  John,  and  was 
prepared  to  welcome  the  whole  family  to  her 
heart.  «, 

Tho  girls  went  with  John  to  meet  their 
beloved  mammy,  and  to  *e  surprised  by  the 
pleasant  and  merry  face  of  Master  Timmy,  who 
Jiad  accompan'.ed  them ! 

"  Why,  Timmy,  lad,"  cried  Bessie,  «  Paddy 
made  me  believe  that  you  were  dead.  I  was 
afeared  to  ask  my  father,  lost  he'd  say  you 


were 


»» 


"  No  Bessie,"  said  Timmy  laughing.  "  I'm 
quite  alive  I  assure  ye !  The  Elder  —  dear 
man  that  he  is  —  finally  gave  consiut  rather 
than  suffer  me  to  come  without.  And  the 
darliii'  mother  pladod  that  he'd  give  me  all 
the  clothes  and  tools  and  money  I'd  nado,  and 


3iait^Hvifinyf^'i!*y^n/t^*n-,-^^v^»mm:m*Mftiii^tmmvy-'^^vyfr^^^^  ■** 


1  yoQ  all  at 
as  come  to 

Mr.  Max> 
Ltiiig  them, 
grateful  to 
or  she  had 
in,  and  was 
mly  to  her 

meet  their 
ised  by  the 
rimmy,  who 

sie, "  Paddy 
ead.  I  was 
e'd  say  you 

ling.  "  I'm 
llder  —  dear 
isiut  rather 
.  And  the 
give  mo  all 
d  nado,  and 


A  JOYFUL  MEETING. 

send  me  ofiF  with  his  blessin'.  And  it'll  be 
a  short  day  afore  ye'U  see  them  all  hero,  that's 
if  the  Elder  can  lave  Mr.  Murray  behind." 

"  But  why,  then,  didn't  you  come  to  seek  us, 
T immy,  and  not  let  Paddy  give  me  yon  fearful 
scare  ? "  asked  Bessie. 

"I  stayed  here  to  watch  the  boxes,"  said 
Tiraray.  "Paddy  was  that  taken  up  with 
the  new  people  and  the  strange  dresses,  that  he 
couldn't  'bide  in  at  all.  He  was  bid  to  take  off 
his  workin'  clothes  that  he'd  wore  on  the  sea,  and 
put  on  his  Sunday  ones ;  and  what  did  wo  see 
in  a  short  space,  but  him  in  '  the  oidd  masther's 
shute '  that  we  thought  safe  in  the  workhouse, 
goin'  off  the  stops  in  company  with  half  a 
dozen  wild  Irishmen  he  took  under  his  wing 
on  the  ship,  and  at  his  heels  a  troop  o' 
boys.  The  people  about  the  inn  door  all 
shouted  with  laughter,  and  one  man  cried, 
*  There  goes  Did  Ii-eland  and  young  America, 
hand  in  hand ! '  Ye'd  ha'  thought  he'd 
known  the  lads  all  his  life  by  the  tarms  they 
tvas  on  ;  he  givin'  them  Irish  pennies,  and 
shigin'  Irish  songs  to  them  afore  he'd  been  two 


380 


GEMS  OF  TUE  BOO. 


hours  off  tlio  ship.  Ho  called  tho  stupid  loons 
ho  was  ladin'  about,  *  these  poor  sthrangers  in 
a  sthrango  land,'  and  said  he  must  put  himself 
about  getting  work  and  homes  for  them  on  tho 
morrow !  Ye'd  a  thought  he'd  lived  in  Amer- 
ica all  his  life,  and  had  hapes  of  influence  in 
it.  There's  one  thing  we've  <1pnc  f-^r  America, 
already;  we've  brought  her  o  nsa.i  tho  like  o* 
whom,  for  wisdom  and  foiij ,  '1»3  never  saw 
before."  •     v  • 


^■11 


itapid  loons 
ilirangcrs  in 
put  himself 
licrn  on  tho 
3d  in  Amer- 
influenco  in 
-^r  America, 
tho  like  o* 
I  never  saw 


€ 


CHAPTER  XXXIV.        * 

,  THE  OLD   FOE   AGAIN. 

MR.  MAXWELL  was  so  charmed  with  this 
new  development  of  Irish  character,  that 
he  made  places  for  John  and  Paddy  in  his 
warehouse,  as  porter  and  teamster.  The  girls 
cheerfully  kept  t'lcir  situations  till,  as  he 
promised  to  do,  their  father  should  be  able  to 
send  them  to  school  again. 

With  aid  of  the  girls,  Peggy  found  rooms 
in  a  neatly-kept  tenement  house  of  the  bet- 
ter class,  and  toon  made  her  humble  city 
home  shine  as  brightly  as  tho  cottage  in  Killy- 
rooke  had  done ;  and  her  grateful  heart  was 
gladdened  every  Sunday  evening  by  seeing  tho 
pleasant  faces  of  her  children  again  at  her 
table. 

But  these  "  Oems  of  the  Bog  "  did  not  sit  sel- 
fishly and  quietly  down  to  rejoico  in  their  deliv- 

381 


•  t 


''^FrwA^^dKiitfwar^ilai 


friwhifirtiiWMimiiiffcliii«i,'ii 


ra 


382 


3EMS  OF  THE  BOO. 


I 


i; 


eraiice'from  enemies,  and  their  safe  condnct  to 
a  land  flowing  witlj  milk  and  honey.  They 
looked  about  at  once  for  work,  each  one  ask- 
ing, "  What  shall  I  rer.der  unto  the  Lord  for 
all  His  benefits  toward  rae  ?  " 

Peggy  soon  found  neighbors  who  needed 
help  and  comfort,  and  without  breathing  a 
"Word  against  their  faith,  she  talked  to  them  of 
that  whicli  was  the  joy  and  the  rejoicing  of 
her  own  heart.  John,  also,  by  his  kind  and 
obliging  ways  made  friends  among  the  men, 
both  in  the  store,  and  in  the  neighborhood 
where  he  lived.  Believed  from  ilie  pressure 
of  his  old  conviction  at  home  —  that  all  had 
known  his  sin  and  therefore  regarded  him  aa  a 
hypocrite,  —  ho  began  to  talk  and  to  labor 
more  openly.  Peggy,  through  Mrs.  Maxwell's 
aid  and  encouragement.  Opened  again  her  knit- 
ting and  singing  meetings  in  the  evenings  when 
toil  was  over.  The  husbands  and  brothers  of 
the  women  dropped  in  Uv/W  and  then  for  a  chat, 
and  they  too  would  listen,  and  sometimes  sing. 
Mr.  Maxwell,  who  wa.  himself  an  earnest 
worker  iu  the  same  good  cause,  supplied  John 


THE  OLD  FOE  AGAIN. 


I  condnct  to 
ney.  They 
ch  one  ask- 
lie  Lord  for 

rho  needed 
treatliing  a 

to  tliem  of 
ejoiciug  of 
s  kind  and 
g  the  men, 
eighborhood 
he  pressure 
liat  all  had 
ed  him  a»  a 
kd  to  labor 
i.  Maxwell's 
an  her  knit- 
euings  when 
1  brothers  of 
n  foi'  a  chat, 
letimes  sing. 

an    earnest 
pplied  John 


with  books  of  interest  to  read  and  to  lend  to 
his  nciglibors  ;  and  occasionally  visited  him  to 
cheer  him  on.  He  was  amazed  at  the  power  of 
Peggy  over  the  women  and  girls,  and  charmed 
by  John's  humble  zeal  and  his  earnest  desii-e 
for  the  souls  of  his  countrymen,  whom  he  re- 
garded as  bound  in  chains  of  error.  He  was 
also  greatly  pleased  with  John  and  Paddy  as 
faithful  laborers  in  the  store,  and  he  felt  sure 
that  God  had  work  for  the  humble  family  iu 
their  new  home. 

One  day,  a  few  weeks  after  their  arrival,  as 
the  redoubtable  Paddy  was  passing  through  one 
of  the  great  thoroughfares,  he  saw  a  fair-faced 
blind  woman  who  was  relating  to  passers-by,  — 
not  one  of  whom  stopped  to  listen,  —  the  story 
of  her  woes.  "  For  the  love  o'  mercy,"  she  said, 
"give  a  shilling  to  a  poor  blind  lady,  whose 
husband  is  just  after  having  his  arm  imputated, 
and  nothing  at  all  in  the  house  to  ate." 

Such  poverty  in  America  was  surprising  to 
Paddy,  and  he  stepped  up  to  lay  his  offering  in 
her  extended  palm.  The  face  of  the  blind 
woman  was  too  familiar  to  deceive  him,  even 


H 


384 


OEMS  OF  THE  BOO. 


under  the  green  shade;    and  he  exclaimed, 
"  And  whin  did  ye  lose  ycr  eyes,  Nan  ?  " 

"  I'm  not  Nan  O'Gorman,"  she  cried,  "  and  I 
niver  heard  o'  Killyrooke  in  all  my  life." 

"  And  who  said  that  was  yer  name,  or  yer 
home,  I'd  ask  ?  "  cried  Paddy,  liis  temper  ris- 
ing at  her  audacity.  "  I'd  inform  ye  that  my 
masther's  nare  by,  and  he'll  have  ye  'rested  for 
Stalin'  his  childer,  and  ye'll  then  have  a  chance 
to  see  what's  a  Yankee  prison  like." 

"  Powers  o'  evil !  "  cried  Nan,  "  why  did  ye 
iver  sind  Paddy  Maunon  all  the  way  over  the 
sea  to  torraint  me  ?  Whist,  Paddy,  and  I'll  till 
ye  a  sacret.  I've  jist  turned  to  this  business  to 
gather  a  little  money  to  take  me  to  Cal'forny, 
where  they  gets  high  wages  for  sittiu'  still. 
Don't  till  on  me,  for  I'm  8ore  afraid  o'  yon 
starn  Misther  Mixwill,  who  thritened  to  'rist 
me ;  and  I'll  promise  niver  more  to  go  nare 
the  Sheelians  while  I  live.  Will  ye  plidge  yer 
honor  ?  " 

«  No,"  said  Paddy,  "  I'll  call  the  drst  polish- 
man  I  see,  and  get  ye  put  into  prison  for  life." 

And  Paddy,  in  his  zeal  to  expose  the  impos- 


f 


TEE  OLD  FOE  AGAIN. 


885 


I  exclaimed, 
fau  ?  " 

ried,  "  and  I 
J  life." 
lamo,  or  yer 
I  temper  ria- 
je  tliat  mj 
jQ  'rested  for 
ave  a  chance 

'  why  did  ye 
yay  over  the 
',aud  I'll  till 
s  business  to 
to  Carforny, 
sittiu'  still, 
fraid  o'  yon 
sned  to  'rist 
I  to  go  nare 
jQ  plidge  yer 

3  first  polish- 
son  for  life." 
lO  the  impos- 


tor, began  to  tell  her  story  to  some  listeners, 
when  she  darted  down  the  street,  turned  into 
a  narrow  alley,  and  was  off  for  ♦'  Cal'forny  "  or 
some  other  distant  region. 

Paddy  liad  little  idea  of  the  .astuess  of  the 
city,  and  thought  he  could  find  her  at  any 
time  by  going  to  the  street  in  which  she  had 
disappeared.  So  he  gathered  quite  a  crowd  of 
idlers  about  him,  and  discoursed  at  consider- 
able length  on  Nan's  genealogy,  and  on  the 
fate  which  liad  "  well  nigh  swipt  the  blood 
o'  the  race  off  the  face  o'  the  arth  entirely." 

His  audience  became  quite  interested  in 
Nan's  history,  and  Paddy,  seeing  this,  grew 
eloquent,  and  throwing  back  his  head,  gave 
vent  to  a  torrent  of"  varses." 

"  Ooh,  lada  o'  Ameriky  !    Oons  o'  the  free  I 
I'd  like  to  be  makin'  a  bargain  with  ye. 
That  ye'll  jine  me  in  aarchiu   this  wide  city  o'er. 
Till  we  bring  Nan  O'Gornian  a  Justice  afore. 

*'  Nather  silver  nor  gold  has  poor  Paddy  to  give. 
But  he'll  love  ye  tid  bliss  ye  as  long  as  ye  live. 
If  ye'U  help  him  to  clarc  her  quite  off  on  the  tea  i 
For  he'll  niver  rest  asy  in  the  land  where  she  be ! " 

Of  course  this  and  much  more  of  the  same 


'*\''i^iaiilMtlaiiMiklmf»^mlt^r^^ 


I 


? 

' 


. 


I'- 


886 


OEMS  or  THE  BOO. 


style  charmed  the  boys,  and  many  of  them  fol- 
lowed Paddy  when  he  moved  on,  asking  him 
whore  he  lived,  and  if  he  made  poetry  for  a 
living. 

Paddy  was  so  flattered  that  ho  was  tempted 
to  tell  a  lie,  and  own  himself  "  a  varse-maker 
by  trade  whereby  he  arned  a  fine  livin',  howl- 
in'  at  funerals  and  singin'  at  fairs  in  the  ould 
counthry;"  but  he  said  he  had  changed  hia 
business  in  this  city,  "  and  was  now  tamester 
to  Mr.  Mixwill,  entirely." 

At  dinner-time  Paddy  went  home,  his  face 
radiant  with  good  news. 

"Look,  dear,"  ho  said  to  Peggy,  "Pvo  fine 
news  to  tell  ye.  I've  found  Nan,  and  I  have 
consorted  with  a  score  o'  boys  to  delude  her  oflf 
to  the  sea,  and  if  good  luck  be  with  us,  drown 
her,  maybe ! " 

«  Paddy,  ye  shall  niver  touch  a  hair  o'  her 
head.  We're  raised  up  beyond  her  power  to 
harm  v.s,  and  I  hope  the  Lord  will  pity  and 
save  her,"  said  Peggy. 

"  rd  be  very  sorry  for  that,  for  it  would  be 
quite  Uiscouragin'  entirely  if  she  was  trated 


IJiS" 


'^         ..UlJJPilll.Ji  III 


THE  OLD  FOE  AOAIIT. 


387 


of  them  foU 
asking  him 
)oetry  for  a 

raa  tempted 
v^arse-maker 
livin',  howl- 
in  the  ould 
changed  his 
ow  tamester 

ae,  his  face 

,  «rvo  fine 
,  and  I  have 
slude  her  off 
th  us,  drown 

I  hair  o'  her 
lier  power  to 
irill  pity  and 

>  it  would  be 
3  was  trated 


V  >.i8 


as  fine  as  yersilf  in  the  matter  o'  religion. 
She's  no  right  to  it  after  all  the  ill  she  has 
done  us.  I'd  feel  myself  quite  wronged  if  she 
got  as  good  trateraent  as  oursilves,"  exclaimed 
Paddy. 

"  Oh,  poor  man,  it's  little  we  deserves  from 
the  hand  o'  the  Lord  ourselves."  said  Peggy. 

"  Humph !  I'll  uiver  give  in  but  I  desarveg 
a  finer  heaven  nor  she ! " 

"Ye  detarve  no  heaven  at  all,  Paddy.  If 
any  o'  us  be  so  happy  as  to  enter  ia  at  last,  it 
wiU  be  o'  free  grace." 


-*"•! 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 


PBOMOTION  AND  REWARD, 


'*  f 

I  ■• 

9  ■ 

8  ' 


WHEN  the  Shechaii  family  had  been  abont 
six  months  in  their  new  home,  and  all 
was  going  on  well  with  them,  Paddy  came  in 
to  dinner  one  day,  evidently  much  cast  down. 
He  pulled  his  hat  over  his  eyes,  —  his  custom 
when  in  grief,  —  and  said  mournfully,  "  No 
dinner  for  me  this  day,  misthress  dear." 

"  What's  gone  wrong,  Paddy  ?  "  asked 
Peggy.  "I  hope  you've  not  angered  the 
jintlemen  at  the  store  ?  " 

"No,  but  they  has  angered  me  sore,"  re- 
plied the  poor  fellow.  "  I'm  disgraced  and 
ruined  for  iver,  and  can  niver  hould  up  my 
head  more  in  public.  They've  turned  my 
masther  into  a  coal-haver." 

"  A  coal-haver  ?  "  cried  Peggy. 

'' Jist  that.    All  was  goin'  on  will,  Misther 


1  '.' 


i-UP"^' 


been  abont 
[ne,  and  all 
iy  came  in 
cast  down, 
his  custom 
fully,  "No 
lar." 

?  "    asked 
ngered    the 

sore,"  re- 
graced  and 
uld  up  my 
turned    my 


ill,  Misther 


*: 


PROMOTION  AND  REWABD. 


389 


Mixwill  seemiu'  to  think  there  was  jist  only  one 
man  in  the  place  !  It  war  '  Sheehan  '  hero  and 
'  Sheehan '  there,  and  more  nor  once  I've 
heerd  him  tellin'  jintlemen  what  a  fine  religious 
family  we  war  —  'specially  himself  and  ye. 

"Will,  to-day,  when  the  door  was  full  up 
with  bales,  our  minister  come  stcppin'  over 
them  with  a  high  man  with  hair  like  a  hay-mow 
on  the  top  o'  his  head,  and  a  white  nick-cloth, 
as  big  as  a  sheet,  about  his  nick.  Misther  Mix- 
will  shuk  hands  with  them  very  glad-like,  and 
bid  them  into  the  coontin'-room,  and  in  five 
minutes  more  he  opened  the  door  and  called 
in  my  masther,  who  was  histin'  bales. 

"  I  made  an  errand  by  the  place,  and  put  my 
ear  to  the  window,  —  not  at  all  with  a  view  o' 
listenin',  for  I'm  too  uunerable  a  man  for  that 
like  maneness,  —  and  heerd  them  ask  my 
masther  many  questions,  and  thin  say,  *  by  the 
will,  thin,  o'  Misther  Mixwill  ye'U  be  no  more 
in  this  store,  but  be  our  coal-haver.' 

*'  My  masther  niver  lifted  his  tongue  agin  it ; 
but  he  was  very  solemn  whin  he  came  out  from 
the  grand  folk.    I  doubt  but  the  old  story  has 


m 


GEMS  OF  THE  BOQ. 


I 

ft 


followed  us  to  Ameriky,  and  will  Imnt  us  till 
we  hides  ill  the  grave.  Och,  och,  why  iver  did 
I  lave  my  own  peaceful  grave  in  Ireland,  aud 
come  here  to  bo  buried  in  a  strange  mau'a 

grave  ?  " 

When  John  came  in,  aud  "the  lad"  was 
gone,  Peggy  said,  with  a  smile,  "  Paddy  say* 
yo  are  tarned  out  o'  yer  place,  and  made  a 
coal  haver,  dear." 

«A  ooal  haver!"   cried  John.    "The  sim- 
pie  fellow  has  been  listening  to  tlie  talk  o'  two 
gentlemen  witli  Mr.   Maxwell  about  me.      It 
Boem^  darlin',  that  the  hearts  of  acme  o'  the 
Lord's  people  here  is  stirred  up  to  make  known 
the  Gospel  to  them  that  will  nather  go  to  His 
house  nor  read  His  Word.     And  they  have 
bound  thimseWes  into  a  society  like  for  that 
end,  and  pay  men  (not  ministers)  to  go  from 
house  to  house  among  the  poor  and  the  sinful, 
readin'   and  talkiii'   to    all    that  will    listen. 
They  had  heard  through  Mr.  Maxwell  o'  ouv 
poor  efforts  among  our  neighbors,  and  came  to 
see  would  he  let  me  off  to  bo  a  worker  for 
them -a  'colporter,'  as  they  calls  it.    And 


^  -» 


il  hunt  us  till 
.,  why  iver  did 
1  Ireland,  and 
strange  man's 

the  lad"  was 
, "  Paddy  say* 
and  made  a 

1.    "The  sim- 
he  talk  o'  two 
about  me.     It 
of  some  o'  the 
to  make  knowa 
ather  go  to  His 
ind  they  have 
y  like  for  that 
lers)  to  go  from 
and  the  sinful, 
lat  will    listen. 
Maxwell  o'  ouv 
irs,  and  came  to 
0  a  worker  for 
y  calls  it.    And 


PROMOTION  AND  REWARD.  891 

tliat'B  sure  the  very  word  Paddy  got  hold  on  ; 
he  thought  a  colporter  was  a  coal-haver,  poor 

lad." 

"And  what  did  ye  say  to  them,  dear? 
asked  Peggy,  with  real  pleasure  in  her  eye. 
«  I  said  I'd  consult  ye,  and  if  ye'd  think  mo 
worthy,  I'd  begin   at  once.    I  really  belave, 
darlin',  timt  Pve  been  doin'  a  sort  o'  pinance 
by  keepin'  my  sin  always  afore  my  mind,  when 
that  sin  was  forgiven  and  to  be  remembered 
no  more  agin  me  for  ever.    Och,  Peggy,  if 
our  own  righteousness  is  nothing  to  live  on, 
what  can  our  sins  be?    Pm  going  to  strive 
hinceforth  to  think  only  on  the  love  aUd  the 
marcy  that  has  washed  them  all  away." 

Paddy's  only  remark,  when  ho  heard  of  this 
change  of  work,  was,  "  And  sure,  thin,  he'll  be 
a  sort  o'  a  minister,  and  wear  a  fine  white 
nickcloth  like  Mr.   Murray.      Why  couldn't 
Mammy  Honey  ha'  lived  to  see  this  day  ? " 

Timmy  secured  work  at  once  in  a  granite- 
yard,  where  he  had  need  of  all  his  strength; 
and  «  being  fine  at  the  pen  and  the  figures," 
ho  made  himself  very  useful  among  the  lads 


■mMimmMMMMM 


■ 


I 


892 


OEMS  OF  THE  BOO. 


wliora  John   go,tliorcd   into  his  kitchon  in  the 
evening  to  listen  to  reading  and  to  be  kept  out 
of  mischief.    Paddy  aided  grcotiy  in  the  work 
by  forming   acquaintances   among  the   young 
men  and  boys,  whom  he  decoyed    into  the 
«'  tachiu's  "  by  promises  of  "  fine  stories  about 
Ireland,"   if  they  would    stay  till  the    clock 
struck    nine.      He  would    redeem    his  word 
by  tales  of  witches  and  ghosts,  of  ball-playing 
and  quoit-pitching,  till  John  was  ready  for  his 
reading  and  Peggy  for  the  singing.      They 
would  remain,  and  frequently  return  without  a 
repetition  of  Paddy's  pious  fraud,  which  was 
known  only  to  himself  and  them. 

On  Sunday  evenings,  when  the  girls  were 
always  at  home,  the  room  was  generally  full  of 
listeners  to  the  sweet  singi-.ig  ;  and  scores  tlnis 
heard  of  the  love  and  pity  of  the  Saviour,  who 
would  not  have  dared  to  listen  to  a  sermon  or 
a  prayer  outside  their  own  church. 

One  day  Paddy  came  in  •after  one  of  his 
missionary  eftorts,  and  pulling  his  hat  over  his 
eyes,  said,  "  Misthress  darlin,  there  come  a 
very  troubliug  thought  into  my  head  when  I 


i 


...-ai^^^gw 


PSOMOTION  AND  REWARD. 


393 


slion  in  the 
bo  kept  out 
in  the  work 

the  young 
ed  into  the 
stories  about 
I  the  clock 
n    his  word 

ball-playing 
■cady  for  his 
;ing.  They 
irn  without  a 
1,  which  was 

0  girls  were 
icrally  full  of 
d  scores  thus 
Saviour,  who 
a  sermon  or 

r  one  of  his 

hat  over  his 

here  come  a 

head  when  I 


was  strivin'  to  drag  in  these  wild  lads  to  hear 
the  singin'  and  the  readin'." 
"What  was  that,  Paddy?"    asked  Peggy 

kindly.  ^ 

«  Will,  thin,  I  thought,  here's  me  takin  all 
this  pains  to  get  other  ones  to  plaze  God,  and 
thinkin'  very  little  about  doin'  it  mysilf,  or 
gittin'  my  own  soul  saved.    Times  gone  I  was 
asy,  becaso  I  thought,  bein'  a  Catholic,  Pd  push 
into  heaven  among  the  crowd,  few  o'  whom 
war  as  good  as  mysilf.    And  since  Pve  turned 
Protestant  I've  trusted  that  I'd  git  in  for  bein» 
in    such    fine   company.    And  jist    now  Pm 
thinkin'  I'll  not  be  let  in  at  all,  at  all.    If  I'll 
not  be  saved  for  yer  goodness,  nor  yet  for  the 
dear  misthress,  sure  I'll  not  be  let  in  for  my 
own,-  becase  why  ?    Bocase  I  hasn't  any." 

«  Pm  glad,  my  dear  man,  that  ye've  found  it 
out,"  cried  Peggy,  "  for  Pve  regarded  ye  as 
the  self-righteousest  cretur'  that  ever  lived  on 
the  arth.  And  none  will  ever  receive  Christ 
till  he's  emptied  o'  silf." 

"Will,  thin,"  cried  Paddy,  "Pm  surprised 
that  Pve  been  let  live  all  this  time,  hatin' 


IWtfililliiilliiii 


394 


OEMS  OF  THE  BOG. 


J 


ivery  body  that  didn't  jist  admire  us,  and 
scornin'  all  that  warn't  equally  grand.  And 
now  I  look  worse  to  mysilf  nor  oven  Nau.  She 
did  aa  she  war  tached,  and  I  didn't.  And 
what'll  I  do  now  ?  " 

"  Ye'U  just  havo  to  do  what  every  other  sin- 
ner does,  Paddy,  before  he  finds  pace  ;  believe 
what  JesuB  says,  and  give  yersilf  to  Him." 
•  « I'll  do  thai,  thin,"  cried  Paddy,  with  tears 
in  his  eyes,  "  but  it's  a  mane  thing  ontirely 
to  bring  only  my  grey  hair  and  my  failin' 
strength  to  the  Lord,  when  I  might  ha'  given 
Him  my  bist  years,  and  I'm  jist  ashamed  to  do 

It." 

«  And  yet,  Paddy,  all  the  labor  of  those  ♦  bist 
years '  could  not  have  purchased  salvation  for 
ye.    That  is  ever  a  ^ree  gift. 

••  •  Jesus,  Thy  blood  and  rightoousnesi 
My  beauty  arc,  my  glorious  drew  ; 
•Mid  flaming  worids  in  these  arrayed. 
With  joy  shall  I  lift  up  my  head.*  " 

"  Aye,  and  will  ye  may  lift  up  yer  head  with 
joy,  ye  that  have  lived  like  an  angel,  with 
niver  a  hatred  in  yer  heart  uor   a  lie  on  yer 


J 


ii^i^i^m*' 


PROMOTION  AND  REWARD. 


895 


ire  us,  and 
rand.  And 
1  Nau.  She 
idu't.     And 

ry  other  sin- 
ace  ;  believe 
)Hiiii." 
r,  with  tears 
ling  entirely 
1  my  fbiliu' 
lit  ha'  given 
ihamod  to  do 

of  those  *  bist 
salvation  for 

nesi 

t 

•  * 

yor  head  with 

I    angel,  with 

a  lie  on  yer 


tongue !  Look  at  the  marcy  I've  had  o'  he  Lord. 
Such  religious  larnin',  — catechisms  and  com- 
mandments and  psulms  and  hums  bate  into  me 
from  the  time  I  left  the  workhouse,  till  this 
hour !    And  i'vo  laughed  at  the  catechism,  and 
broke  the  commandments,  and  twisted  the  holy 
varsea    into    nousiuse.      Mysilf   it  was,  who 
scared  the  poor  fool  who  disgraced  our  fine 
funerel,  by  chasing  him  near  the  church  yard 
till  he  fell  and  was  tuk  up  for  dead,  none 
knowin'  what  ailed  him!    And  I  it  was  that 
F«t  fire  to  our  inimy's  cottage.    And  oh,  the 
lies  I've  told!    It  would  take  seven  year  to 
confiss  them  to  ye.    Only  tin  days  agone  I 
lured  two  rough  lads  into  the  night-tachins  by 
tellin'  that  ye  closed  up  by  givin'  the  boys  a 
fine  supper.    Ye  mind  how  yon  ones  sat  long 
after  all  else  war  gone  ?    Will,  thin,  I  beck- 
oned them  out,  and  told  them  the  butcher  dis. 
appointed  ye  in  not  sending  the  young  pig  ye 
war  to  roast  for  us !    And  didn't  I  tell  the 
darks  in  Mr.  Mixwell's  store  that  ye  were 
niver  common  farmer  people  at  home,  but  that 
my  masther  war  brother  to  Harply  Hall,  and 


liff---'-"""^"-^ 


396 


GEMS  OF  THE  BOG. 


tliiit  wc  only  tuk  a  freak  and  came  off  to 
Amciik)  in  disguish  for  a  little  sport,  — the 
way  Victoory  of  England  do  at  times !  1  told 
thciu  we  langhcd  at  the  pittance  Mr.  Mixwill 
gives  ns  in  wages,  and  often  threw  it  away 
among  the  boys  on  our  road  home,  and  that  I 
war  ycr  butler  in  Ireland  as  my  father  war  be- 
fore me !  Sure  I  can  niver  be  forgive  for  all 
that  and  a  thousand  evils  more."     ' 

"  0'  course  they  didn't  belave  a  word  on't, 
and  laughed  at  ye  for  thinkin'  they  did  ;  but  ye 
must  confiss  ycr  sin,  and  humble  ycrsilf  before 
them,  and  tell  them  ye've  rcpinted  and  are 
seeking  the  Lord,"  said  Peggy. 

Paddy  shook  his  head  mournfully,  and  said, 
"  I  used  to  think  if  iver  I  coulu  grow  rich  and 
have  tin  pounds  in  the  Bank,  I  ask  no  greater 
happiness.  But  now,  if  I  could  but  be  forgive 
and  get  pace,  I  niver  care  if  I  didn't  look  on 
another  farthin'  whilo  I  lives  !  " 

«  Paddy,"  said  his  mistress, "  there's  one  only 
can  give  ye  pace,  poor  man,  and  ye  know 
where  to  find  Him.  Go  to  Him  and  confess 
ycr  sin,  and  ask  Him  to  pity  and  pardou  ye 


''-W«ii..%!J»(.»tf*>^«-'-*'^''''^********^'*"*'' 


L!JIU,I|J.    I;     Jf^f^^-   \    ,    l|'     ""1" 


came  off  to 
sport,  —  the 
lines!  1  told 
Mr.  Mixwill 
•ew  it  away 
3,  and  that  I 
ither  war  be- 
rgivc  for  all 

a  word  ou't, 
y  did  ;  but  ye 
jrersilf  before 
ited  and   aro 

lly,  and  said, 
row  rich  and 
k  no  greater 
ut  be  forgive 
idu't  look  on 

lere's  one  only 
md  ye  know 
1  and  confess 
nd  pardou  ye 


PROMOTION  AND  REWARD.  897 

for  the  sake  o'  His  dear  Son,  who  came  to 
save  the  simple  as  well  as  the  wise." 

« I  used  to  think,  dear,  that  I  was  wiser  nor 
any  other  one,  but  now  every  word  I  spakes 
sounds  like  an  idiot's,"  replied  Paddy. 

« In  the  multitude  o'  words  there  wanteth 
not  sin,  dear  man,"  said  Peggy;  «  so  the  less 
ye  talk  the  less  danger  ye'll  be  in  o'  sinnin'. 
Even  the  wise  King  David  had  to  set  a  double 
watch  on  his  lips  lest  he  might  sin  with  his 
tongue."  .         ; 

"  Mammy  Honey  once  told  me  my  tongue 
gave  her  great  sorrow,  and  bid  me  count  tin 
every  time  before    I'd   spake,  so  as  to  have 
space  to  think  what  I'd  be  to  say.   I'll  obey  her 
orders  aven  at  this  late  day,  and  so  strive  to 
plasc  the  Lord.    If  iver  ye  hear  me  boastin', 
rebuke  me,  dear,  for  I  have  a  sore  longin'   to 
bo  rid  o'  evil  and  to  sarve  the  Lord  the  small 
space  that's  lift  me  here  ;  for  I  jist  feel  I  love 
Him  so,  that  Pd  lay  my  life  down  rather  nor 

grieve  Him."  r 

There  was  a  marked  change  in  poor  Paddy 
after  this  time.  Although  he  kept  his  merry  old 


I  ■iiii'""-'fii''ii"'-  ••■■■"■■*^"»**' 


398 


GEMS  OF  THE  BOO. 


heart,  and  still  "  consorted  with  boys  in  placo  o» 
mcn";hiscalm  and  modest  demeanor,  and  hia 
zeal  in  every  work  of  mercy  gave  great  joy  to 
those  who  had  spent  so  much  labor  on  him. 

At  the  end  of  three  years,  the  Shcehans 
were  joined  in  their  now  home  by  Elder  Peter 
and  his  wife.  The  hard  nature  of  the  stone- 
cutter had  undergone  a  great  change  during 
his  painful  separation  from  his  beloved  Tim- 
my ;  and  the  work  of  softening  was  carried  ou 
still  farther  by  the  genial  influences  which  now 
surrounded  him  in  the  church  to  wh-ch  he  had 
bQcn  at  once  introduced, 

Timmy  had  grown  into  a  strong  and  noble 
man,  proud  of  his  trade  and  of  his  skill  at  it. 
lie  rejoiced  tliat  «  miracles  o'  money  could  be 
wrought  out  o'  the  hard  stone  by  a  strong  arm 
and  a  powerful  will ;  and  the  money  he  thus 
earned  was  as  free  as  the  air  to  all  who  needed 
help.     Ho  had  now  become  a  real  helper  to  hia 
friends  in  every  good  work.    Timmy  had  not, 
however,  overcome  "  his  old  wakeness  "  which 
ho  had  inherited  from  some  far-ofif  ancestor. 
When  the  Elder  saw  that  he  devoted  all  hia 


-"  JUmii 


s  iu  placo  o* 
nor,  and  liia 
great  joy  to 
'  on  lilin. 
lio  Slicelians 
Elder  Peter 
if  the  Btonc- 
ango  during 
Kjloved  Tim- 
is  carried  ou 
IS  which  now 
grhfoh  he  had 

ig  and  nohle 
is  skill  at  it. 
tioy  conld  he 
ft  strong  arm 
)ney  he  thus 
I  who  needed 
helper  to  his 
imy  had  not, 
eness  "  which 
r-off  ancestor, 
voted  all  his 


PROMOTION  AND  REWARD.  399 

leisure  time  to    Bessie,  he  remarked,   "It's 
just  as  I  always  prophesied ;  he  has  turned  out 
a  gallant,  or  a  lover  or  some  such  thing."  But 
the  old  man  was  not  annoyed  by  the  fulfilment 
of  his  words,  but,  on  the  contrary,  he  entered 
into  all  his  sou's  plans   for  the  happy  future. 
He  established  himself  at  once  in  a  stone  yard, 
and   took  Timmy  into  partnership  with    him. 
He  is  now  aiding  the  Sheehans  in   their  good 
work,  and  laying  up  a  little  store  wherewith 
Timiny  and  Bessie  may  ere  long  set  up  anclher 
new  home  in  the  New  World. 

And  here  we  take  leave  of  these  "  Gems  of 
the  Bog,"  asking,  for  their  sakes,  the  sympathy 
of  the  reader,  in  that  class  for  whom  especially 
they  labored  and  prayed. 


-,& 


THB  END. 


Mj 


fir?^&^»- 


».M<ii»ij»-arii 


^^^^ 


¥ 


^■■iii"v-i';*'*''^'f^'»'»--=^**''«<«*iw*— •»5s6sa*»^ 


r4i;»,-S.«i«£S£isSHi»-^i?Ai-"-^-^  ^,-;'ii.i<i 


ke  j^ 


